


Haunted Whispers

by flipflop_diva



Series: Haunted Whispers [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Natasha Needs a Hug, POV Alternating, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Relationship, Protective Phil Coulson, Protective Steve, Red Room, Season/Series 02, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:10:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha Romanoff never talks about her past, and she prefers to keep it that way. So when her past starts to come back to haunt her, she settles for a half-truth and convinces Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers to help her search for a not-actually-dead Phil Coulson and his new team of former SHIELD agents. But unfortunately for her, secrets have a way of coming out, and these ones aren't going to wait much longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First things first: Thank you so much to [Paleogymnast](http://archiveofourown.org/users/paleogymnast/pseuds/paleogymnast) for the gorgeous, gorgeous art. You should all [check it out here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5202095)!
> 
> Second, it feels a little weird to say that a 30,000-word fic is really just the set up, but that is kind of what this is. I started writing this series more than a year ago now, and what started off as a fun idea for a short little fic has turned into this super elaborate tale that already has pages and pages of notes. I had originally wanted to post it all at once, but as I was working on it, I decided that the story would be better served as a series. So it is. 
> 
> It takes place directly after CA: TWS and will follow a lot of season 2 of Agents of SHIELD. The other parts are going to be a lot darker, but this one kind of eases you into the story. At least I hope!
> 
> So welcome to Part 1. I hope you enjoy!

**[STEVE]**

She was sitting in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee, tilted back in a chair with her feet up on the table, dressed in black sweats and a matching tank top and looking like this was completely normal and not at all like she had said goodbye to them four months ago at a gravesite for a man who wasn’t even dead and then disappeared completely from their lives.

Steve almost dropped the bag of Chinese takeout he held in his hand when they walked into the kitchen and saw her. She looked up at him, and Sam behind him, and grinned.

“Hey,” she said, and took a sip of coffee.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The words came out a little too harsh, and she blinked at him, as if she were surprised. She dropped her feet down to the floor and put the coffee cup on the table.

“You really thought I wouldn’t come back?” she said, and was that hurt in her voice? Steve frowned at her.

“Yes,” he said, because what else was he supposed to say? He had barely seen her in the time since SHIELD fell. Sam had said she’d been at the hospital after they had found him on the edge of the Potomac, but once the doctors knew he was going to make it, she had disappeared, returning once when he was awake with a vase of flowers and a very ugly teddy bear that she’d seemed a little too happy to give him. Then there were the few minutes at Fury’s non-grave when she had given him the file on Bucky. And then nothing. He had figured she’d done what she’d said she was going to do — go figure out a new cover. He just hadn’t expected to have it actually bother him so much that she could leave so easily after everything they had been through.

But now, seeing her sitting in front of him, he realized just how much it had.

She tilted her head to the side to study him. Sam stepped out from behind Steve and snatched the takeout bag from his hand, heading to the counter to start getting out plates. Steve had a feeling Sam did not want to be involved in whatever was going on between him and Natasha.

What was going on between him and Natasha?

“Why are you here, Nat?” he asked her, but this time, his voice was quieter, almost resigned.

She didn’t answer. The seconds ticked by, but she just stared at him like she wasn’t sure anymore if she could tell him. He felt a surge of guilt flare up inside him. He shouldn’t have snapped at her. It wasn’t her fault he regretted letting her leave. And she was here now, wasn’t she?

“You can tell me,” he said. “I’m sorry. You just … you caught me off-guard.”

Natasha kept staring at him, that intense stare that made it seem like she was trying to see through his soul. But then finally she straightened, pushing her shoulders back and looking around the kitchen like she thought someone might be spying on them. When she spoke, her voice was low.

“I did something,” she whispered, and Steve felt his heart leap into his throat. Whatever she was about to say, he had a feeling it was going to change everything.

“What?” he said, because not to know was not actually a choice.

“When I was putting the SHIELD documents on to the internet …” She trailed off.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t put them all on.”

“What?” Steve scratched his head. “How is that possible? Fury said …”

“I deleted them,” she said.

_Oh._

“How?” Steve said.

Sam turned. “Why?” he asked.

She answered Sam. “Because I saw something,” she said.

Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “What did you see?”

She paused. “Coulson,” she finally said. “He’s alive.”

Steve shook his head instantly. “That’s impossible. We were all there when he died.”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“Phil Coulson,” Steve answered when Natasha didn’t look like she was going to say anything. “Fury’s right-hand man. He was killed by Loki during the Battle of New York.”

“He’s alive,” Natasha said. She didn’t elaborate on Steve’s explanation of who Coulson had been, even though Steve had known the guys for a few hours and she had — he assumed — spent years with him.

“It’s not possible, Nat,” he said.

“Fury’s not dead,” she said. “And everyone thinks he is. You’re not dead, and you should be.”

Steve sighed. “Phil was stabbed through the heart. You can’t fix that.”

Natasha crossed her arms. Her eyes narrowed. Steve barely managed to restrain another sigh. He knew by now how stubborn she was when she thought she was right. 

“Okay,” he said. “Tell me what you saw then. In the files.”

Her arms were still crossed tightly, but she relaxed the scowl on her face. “They were field reports. Level Eight. His name was on them. I think he’s leading a SHIELD team.”

“That’s impossible.”

“You keep saying that.”

“SHIELD isn’t that big. It’s been two years. We would have known. Someone would have told us.”

“Well, they obviously didn’t.”

“Natasha ….”

“I saw it, Rogers!” She slammed her hands down on the kitchen table and shot to her feet. She looked flustered. It unnerved Steve a little. Natasha didn’t get flustered by anything. And he couldn’t quite figure out why she seemed so bothered and insistent on Coulson being alive. After everything with Hydra and Bucky, wasn’t there enough to deal with than chasing more ghosts? And if he was alive, how did it really matter to them now anyway?

He tried to make his voice calm and soothing, like he was talking to a child, even as he was aware that she would see right through him. He tried not to think about the fact that she could probably kill him in two seconds flat for treating her that way if she wanted. “Are you sure you’re not just looking for something you want to be there, but isn’t?” 

“I’m sure,” she said, and her tone left no room for argument. “I know what I saw.”

“Okay, okay.” Sam turned away from the Chinese food he was dishing up and stepped up to the kitchen table, between Steve and Natasha. He looked at Natasha. “I’m guessing you didn’t break into my apartment just to tell us this news, though. You want something.”

She crossed her arms again. “Not anymore.”

“Nat, don’t be like that,” Steve said. Sam gestured at him to zip it, but he kept his eyes on Natasha. 

“You want to find him?” Sam guessed.

Natasha leaned to the left to peer over Sam’s shoulder and glare at Steve. Steve ignored her.

“Yes,” she said.

“And you want us to help you?”

“I did before.”

“Well, we’ll help you,” Sam said.

“No!” she and Steve said at the same time. Sam must have shot Natasha a glare because Steve saw her forehead crease in frustration as Sam turned and sent Steve his own personal look as well.

“Yes,” Sam said. “We will.” He looked back at Natasha. “You wouldn’t have come to ask us for help if you thought you could do it alone.” He turned back around to face Steve. “And instead of you two standing here arguing over who is right, we can solve it by actually helping her. If he’s not alive, we won’t find anything.”

“We’re supposed to be searching for Bucky,” Steve said, realizing as the words left his mouth that he was now the one behaving like a petulant child.

“With our zero leads to go on at the moment?” Sam said. “Yeah, taking a break for a day or two will really set us back.”

Steve wanted to roll his eyes. Instead he looked at Sam, who was watching him with an almost bemused expression, and at Natasha, who had returned to scowling. But Sam was right. She could have gone to anyone — or to no one at all — but she had come to them for help. There was something she wasn’t telling them (wasn’t there always something she wasn’t tell them?). Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to figure out what it was.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “Let’s find out if Coulson is still alive.”

“Great,” Sam said, and grinned. “Now that that’s settled, let’s eat.” He looked at Natasha. “Chinese?”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

•••

“So why now?” 

Natasha and Sam both looked up, mouths full of Chow Mein. Steve was holding on to his eggroll, but he wasn’t eating. The question had been plaguing him since Sam forced them to sit down and act like they liked each other.

“Why now?” he repeated. “You obviously saw this when we took down SHIELD. That was almost five months ago now.”

Natasha met his eyes. Her face didn’t give anything away. She finished chewing what was in her mouth. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to find him if it was true.”

“But you are sure now?”

She gave a wry smile. “No,” she said. “But when I was underground, I heard things. From sources.”

“What things?” Steve asked.

“SHIELD is still out there,” she said. “Just remnants, but it’s still there. I think Phil is running it.”

Steve frowned. “Even if he’s alive, that seems like a stretch. First he’s alive and none of us know. And now he’s what? Leading a renegade SHIELD operation when as far as the rest of the world is concerned, SHIELD doesn’t exist anymore?”

Natasha shook her head. “You don’t know him like I do,” she said. “SHIELD was Phil’s life. He would never leave it. No matter what happened.”

“SHIELD was Fury’s life, too,” Steve argued. “And he left it.”

“So he says,” Natasha answered. She scooped another helping of Chow Mein on to her plate. “But we both know he’s not exactly forthcoming.”

_Neither are you,_ Steve wanted to say, but instead he just nodded. She was right about that, at least.

“So what do you need us for?” he asked her instead. “I don’t believe for a second you couldn’t have found out the truth of this on your own if you wanted.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe I want backup.”

“Natasha …”

“Can we just not?” Her tone was clipped, higher pitched than normal. Her expression didn’t change but Steve could see the tension in her shoulders. He dropped it. If she didn’t want to tell them, nothing he said was going to change her mind.

“I just want to know what I’m getting into is all.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, and he could see her relax a notch. “I won’t interfere with your plans to track Bucky. I just want to find Coulson and have a talk with him.”

“An actual talk or your fists on his face?” Sam asked.

She smiled. “An actual talk. To see for myself. That’s it. I just need to know.”

Sam nodded. “That seems fair.” Steve disagreed. He thought it seemed a bit peculiar, but he kept silent.

“And then I won’t bother you again.”

“I’ll believe _that_ when I see it,” Sam said, but he was grinning. He reached over and snatched Steve’s eggroll out of his hand and threw it across the table at Natasha, who caught it and popped it in her mouth, a smile like that of the Cheshire Cat stretched across her face.

•••

They had long ago parted for the night, Sam to his bedroom, Natasha to the guest one. Steve had told her she could have it. She argued, but he insisted. There were only so many of his inborn traits he could change, and being a gentleman was not one of them. Plus, he didn’t mind the couch, especially since he couldn’t seem to sleep anyway. Instead he just laid there, hands tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling but only seeing a rush of memories from the past month. 

Natasha’s reflection in the vending machine as she blew bubble gum, looking like it was just another day. The smile on her face in the car when she had teased him about not having kissed anyone else. The feel of her in his arms as he frantically got them to safety, praying she would wake up. The touch of her lips on his cheek as she bade them goodbye.

And Bucky. Seeing him on the street, fighting him on the Triskillion, looking for him everywhere but it all just leading to more dead ends after dead ends.

He even thought about Coulson, those few short hours he’d known him. The way he was so proud to have been there when Steve had been pulled out of the ice. The way he died after confronting Loki. Was it really possible that he was alive? 

The floor behind the couch creaked. Steve didn’t even have to make a move to know what — _who_ — it was.

“Are you planning to just sneak out when everyone is sleeping?” His voice had a touch more bitterness in it than he had planned, but she deserved it. If she bailed on them now …

She didn’t answer, but he knew she was there. He waited. Neither one of them moved nor spoke. This was ridiculous. He sat up and turned to look at her. 

Well, if she had been planning to sneak out, it was a strange wardrobe decision. She was still dressed in what she had gone to bed in — one of Steve’s old t-shirts and a pair of sweats she’d borrowed from Sam. Both were way too big for her, and she looked a little like a child trying to play grownup with her parents’ clothes.

“Nat?” he said. He couldn’t see her face very clearly in the dark, but he could see enough of her silhouette to know she was looking at him. “Are you? Sneaking out?”

“No.”

Her voice was low, lower than her normal whisper — he didn’t think he would have heard her if he hadn’t had super-enhanced hearing — but the waver was unmistakable. He was off the couch in a flash, by her side. He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her back over to the couch, helping her sit down next to him. She didn’t protest any of it, but as soon as he had her settled, he put his hands back in his own lap just in case.

“Hey,” he said. He had an urge to reach out and take her hand, but he had a feeling that might be crossing a line. “What’s going on?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She turned her head to look at him. Her eyes looked almost glassy. He couldn’t decide if it was the dark playing tricks on him or if there really was something there.

“Talk to me,” he said, and he was reminded of the first time they were in Sam’s apartment, the first time she told him a truth about herself that was completely honest. 

Of course, it was daylight that time and he could see her a lot better. Not so much now. Being next to her, he could make her out a bit easier than before, but still not enough to really read her expression. He did see her blink, though, slowly and purposely, more than once. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. 

“I won’t tell anyone you have human emotions, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” he said and that drew a short chuckle. He felt, rather than saw, her relax just a fraction.

“You asked me why. Why now and why I wanted help.”

“I did.”

“I can’t do it alone.”

Steve raised a brow at that. In the dark, he saw her lips curve into a smile.

“Not like that,” she said. “Just … I thought I could do anything alone, you know? That I didn’t need anyone. But I’ve been trying since I left to find him, and I just … can’t. Every time I go to start searching, I just …. I can’t do it. I _need_ to know if what I saw was real, but I … I need someone who won’t let me not look. I know you’ll do that.”

“Why not Barton? I assume you’re in contact with him.”

“He’s too close to Coulson. If it turns out not to be real …” She trailed off, turning her head away from Steve. This time he did reach out and take her hand. She didn’t pull away.

“You don’t know if you want to find him, do you? If you want it to be real?”

“I _do_ want it to be real,” she said, “but if it is …”

“Then they lied to you.”

She turned back to Steve, and this time he was sure the sheen in her eyes was unshed tears. But then she blinked again and it was gone.

The pieces fell into place.

“You care about him,” Steve said, and it wasn’t a question. 

“He was my handler,” she said.

“But he was more than that.”

She shook her head. “No. We didn’t …”

“That’s not what I meant, Nat,” he said. “I meant he’s more to you than just someone you reported to.”

“He believed in me,” she said. “When Barton spared me, Coulson is the one who convinced Fury to give me a chance. He promised to be responsible for me. I probably wouldn’t be alive right now if he hadn’t.”

“I didn’t get to know him very well,” Steve said. “Just that one day. But I’ve heard people say he was a great guy.”

Natasha nodded. “He was. Is. Was. I don’t know. … He was one of the good ones. He believed so strongly in SHIELD and in what it was doing. He believed so strongly in people.”

“In you,” Steve said.

“In me.”

“But if he’s been alive for two years and he didn’t tell you …”

She shrugged. “I should know better than to expect anyone to share anything with me. But when I saw his name on those files, I couldn’t think. I panicked and deleted them. And all I could think was how could he be alive and not tell me? But that’s stupid.”

“That’s not stupid.” Steve squeezed her hand. “Expecting someone you care about to care about you in return.”

“I lie for a living, Rogers,” Natasha said, and there was her normal tone of voice. “I make people think I care about them and trust them all the time when I don’t. I should never expect it to be any different when it’s me.”

“Sometimes it is different, Natasha.”

“Not with SHIELD,” and this time her voice was bitter. Steve could understand. She hadn’t said anything to him, but he knew how hurt she had been that Fury hadn’t told her about faking his death. And now Coulson. 

“We’ll find out the truth,” he told her. “And then we’ll do whatever you want to do. You don’t have to do it alone.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she said, and her voice was soft again. 

“You should get some rest,” he told her. “When’s the last time you slept?” 

“I don’t remember.” 

Steve glanced down at the couch they were sitting on, then at her. “How about you just try?” he said. “Come on. Lay down with me.” He gestured to the couch. She frowned.

“The couch isn’t that big, Rogers.” 

“Neither are you, Romanoff,” he countered, and she smiled a little. 

“Okay,” she said, “but I don’t promise not to kick.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They got into position, Steve stretched out on the couch, Natasha on top of him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her head on his chest. He covered them both up with a blanket.

Five minutes later, she was fast asleep in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**[NATASHA]**

She drifted back into wakefulness with her arms wrapped around Captain America and her head buried in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. She realized in horror that there was a small wet spot on his t-shirt where she had nicely managed to drool on him, and his arm wrapped around her had somehow ended up with his hand on her ass.

This was so not what she needed after everything else in her life was turning upside down.

This was part of why she had been reluctant to ask him for help. She knew how much it meant to Steve to find Bucky, and she wanted him to be able to do that without her interfering. Plus, something had happened in those three days they had been running from Hydra. Before that, she and Steve were colleagues, sometime partners, sometimes maybe people who worked well together and could manage to have a good time while doing so. Some people called that friendship, but Natasha had learned a long time ago that having friends was dangerous, that caring about people was dangerous.

But in those three days, when there wasn’t anyone else to trust, she’d had to rely on him, she’d had to trust him, and it wasn’t until she and Sam and Fury were frantically searching for him, by air and then on foot, too scared to wonder out loud if maybe he hadn’t survived, that she realized she _needed_ him.

And Natasha Romanoff didn’t need anyone. Ever.

So she left, walked away. She hadn’t intended to come back, even with what she knew about Phil. That wasn’t Rogers’ problem anyway. He had barely known him.

But then the nightmares started and the odd feelings and the things she couldn’t tell anyone. And then there was the horrific realization that even though she prided herself on being able to do absolutely anything and do it perfectly, she literally could not make herself find Phil on her own. And she couldn’t tell Clint, even if she had known where Clint was.

So here she was, back again, and probably more ashamed and disappointed in herself than she had ever been in her life, and now, to make matters worse, she was slobbering all over an American icon while he groped her in her sleep.

She carefully lifted her head and raised her eyes upward. Steve was awake — of course he was awake — studying her intently with those bright blue eyes.

“Morning,” he said quietly. He didn’t move his hand from where it was lying on her backside, even though he must have been aware of it. 

“Hi,” she said. Shadows drifted across his face as she looked at him. The apartment was still dark, but light was beginning to filter in through the windows. She guessed it was just after sunrise. There was no other noise, so she figured Wilson was still sleeping. 

“Feeling better?”

“I wasn’t feeling not fine before.”

“Nat …”

“We should get started. The faster we find him, the faster you can get back to your search and I can be out of your hair.” She slipped quickly out of his grasp, not trusting herself to spend another second in an intimate embrace with Steve Rogers. She saw a flash of hurt cross his face for a second, but she turned away from him and headed into the kitchen. Her laptop she had brought with her was tucked away inside her backpack, currently sitting on the counter. By the time Steve followed her into the kitchen, she was already sitting at the table, waiting for the computer to turn on, as the coffee brewed in the pot behind her.

She felt him watching her as he stood in the doorway. “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?”

“Nat,” he started, but she shook her head and cut him off.

“We talked enough last night,” she said. “Let’s just do this.”

She could tell without even looking at him that he didn’t like that, but then, Steve usually didn’t like half of what she had to say. He had learned, though, thankfully, not to press her, so instead he walked over to the counter and took out two mugs, and a few moments later he was handing her a cup, three sugars and a touch of cream, just how she liked it.

She tried not to think about how she had somehow let Steve Rogers know such personal details about her, like how she took her coffee.

He sat down across the table from her. “Tell me what to do,” he said. 

She looked up at him. “Grab a computer,” she said. “Check everything. Newspaper articles, Facebook profiles, Instagram photos, twitter accounts, traffic light cameras, bank cameras … if he’s been alive and working for SHIELD, there has got to be something or someone out there that has seen him.”

“You don’t think if there was that stuff that SHIELD would have taken care of it by now?”

Natasha shook her head. “I’m counting on the fact that they were too busy elsewhere to get it all. We’re better trackers than they are.”

“I don’t know about that,” Steve said slowly as she glared, “but for your sake, I hope you’re right.”

•••

Three hours later Sam joined them in the kitchen, staring at them as though they had suddenly sprouted two heads. “Do you two never sleep?” he asked. “Super powers sure do come with good perks.”

Natasha frowned but didn’t look up. She was too busy scrolling through all the logs of air traffic control that she had hacked into through the FAA. “We don’t have super powers,” she said.

“He does,” Sam said, gesturing at Steve before making his way over to the coffee pot and then frowning upon finding it empty. “You couldn’t make more?”

“We didn’t know you were ever getting up,” Steve said, and Natasha couldn’t help the slight smirk of her lips. “And it’s super _serum_ , not super powers.”

Sam poured fresh water into the coffee maker. “Pretty much the same thing,” he said.

“Then explain Nat,” Steve said. “She doesn’t have either.”

“I can’t explain Nat,” Sam replied, hitting the start button. “She’s an enigma.”

“I am that,” Natasha told them.

“But do Ms. Enigma and Mr. Super Serum need some help from a lowly mortal?”

“I don’t think I’d call you that,” Steve said.

“Sure you would,” Sam grinned, pulling up a chair. “But it’s nice to think otherwise. Now tell me what I can do.”

“Grab a laptop,” Natasha said. “You can check twitter accounts.”

“That … does not sound like that much fun.”

“I know,” she said, and smiled. “That’s why you get to do it.”

Sam turned to Steve. “Who let her stay?”

Steve didn’t answer, but Natasha didn’t miss the small smile on his face. She pretended she didn’t notice. 

•••

Five hours later, Natasha let out a frustrated sigh. She normally had the patience of a saint — after all, she had been taught how to wait for hours upon hours, sometimes days, until she finally got to the moment she needed — but she had been sitting on this for so long, and now that she had finally built up the assistance and the courage to go looking, she was more anxious about it than she cared to let on. None of those were feelings she was used to, or liked, and she rather just wanted to get it all over with so she could figure out where to go from here.

She saw Steve look up at her, his face and eyes scrunched up with that compassionate look he got when he felt bad for someone, and she shook her head before he could say anything. 

“Don’t,” she warned. 

“How about we take a break?” Sam suggested, jumping in before Steve could respond. Natasha shot him a look, but he just stared evenly back at her. “Do you really think if there is something out there, it’s going to disappear in the next thirty minutes?”

She clenched her teeth together to keep from responding, and Sam apparently took that as agreement with his plan. 

“Laptops away,” he said, “before I fly to the top of the Washington Memorial and throw them off.”

“You wouldn’t,” Natasha said.

“Do you want to try me?”

“Do you want me to kick your ass?”

He grinned, and then actually leaned over and ruffled her hair like she was a three-year-old. She glowered. “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said.

“You should see her when she’s snapping someone’s neck,” Steve said, and he was grinning now too.

“Just wait till I’m snapping both of yours,” she grumbled, “At the same time.”

“Well, I’m guessing it will be after we find your guy,” Sam said, way too cheerfully for her taste. Natasha didn’t think she had ever sounded that happy in her life, even when she was faking it for one mission or another. “So come on, laptops away. Let’s order pizza!”

She did as she was told — it was no good for anyone to piss off the help — but an hour later, after the pizza had been ordered and consumed, they were back at work. Natasha had made sure she spent the entire time glaring (because she sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that a break had been nice), and as soon as everyone was back online, she handed out tasks like she was a drill sergeant. Maybe they understood how on edge she was because neither of them had a single complaint, even if they did keep up a steady stream of bantering back and forth the entire afternoon. She felt like she was in some cheesy TV sitcom she couldn’t get away from.

By the time day turned into night and night turned into dawn, however, they still weren’t any closer to finding what they needed.

“We can try again tomorrow,” Steve said to her gently after Sam yawned for probably the fiftieth time in an hour. She shook her head.

“I’m not stopping.”

“Natasha …”

She shook her head, set her mouth in a firm line. “No,” she said, and she made sure her tone made it clear that she was not budging. “You guys go to bed. I’m not stopping.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Steve said.

She glanced up at him. She hadn’t actually expected that. She saw Sam glance from one of them to the other.

“You super heroes,” Sam finally said. “I’m going to have to get me some of those powers someday.”

“We don’t have powers,” Steve said, but Sam was already halfway out of the kitchen, still laughing.

“Goodnight, you crazy kids!” he called, and then the bedroom door shut. 

Natasha looked back at Steve. “You don’t need to stay.”

“I don’t sleep much anyway.”

“Okay,” she said.

He nodded. “Okay.”

•••

She was so tired she almost missed it. It had been 33 straight hours, and she could hardly see straight — not that she would _ever_ admit that to anyone. She had been through much worse anyway. She was scrolling through photos uploaded to Instagram from people near restaurants in the Los Angeles area. Steve had earlier found a mention about an unauthorized plane in the area, and something about it had pricked at her senses. Steve didn’t seem to think it was much — after all, the mentions of unauthorized aircraft in other areas hadn’t yet warranted anything — but he took his mission to check traffic cameras in the entire metro area without complaint.

Neither one of them had been talking, just clicking away, and Natasha had found herself drifting away every couple minutes, her thoughts too crowded and foggy to really make sense of anything. But luckily for her, her subconscious never strayed from a task for long, and it was that tingling sensation that something was there that had her clicking backward over photos she had supposedly already checked.

Of course, nothing was showing up for her now, and she contemplated just throwing in the towel and maybe actually going to sleep for a few hours.

She clicked the back button one more time and froze. She didn’t even realize she had made an audible noise until she saw Steve’s head jerk up as he looked over at her.

“Nat?”

She didn’t answer, just gestured him over. He slid out of his chair and walked around behind her. She pointed to the back far right side of the photo that was displayed full-screen on her monitor.

It wasn’t much — most of the photo was taken up by a couple making ridiculous faces for their selfie portrait they obviously felt they had to share with the world, but just behind them, standing side by side, obviously in conversation, was a young dark-haired girl and a man who, even two years later, looked very, very familiar.

Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t slept in two days, or maybe it was the fact that for the past two months she had felt like she had to spend every second of every day looking over her shoulder because everything she had ever trusted had come back to stab her in the back, but looking at the photo, at a face she _knew_ , a face she had seen almost every day for eight years, she felt a stinging sensation prick at the back of her eyes, and she was almost too exhausted to hide it.

If Steve noticed, though, he didn’t say anything. “Are you sure?” he said instead. “The photo is so small …”

“I’m sure,” she whispered, and her voice had such a hard time coming out, she was glad Steve had super-enhanced hearing because she didn’t think he would have heard her otherwise. 

He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she was tempted to shrug it off, mostly because she felt so close to the edge that she was afraid any ounce of comfort — or god forbid, pity — was going to cause a scene that was too embarrassing to even think about. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She needed to control herself.

Steve pointed to the screen, to the dark-haired figure by Phil’s side. “Who’s the girl?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know her.”

He nodded, as if deep in thought. “She could be anyone.”

Natasha stared harder at the photo. They both looked like they had been through the wringer. The girl’s dark hair was wind-swept and tangled. Phil’s outfit looked dirty. She couldn’t see his face — he was turned toward the girl — but the little bit of hers that could be seen looked slightly panicked.

Natasha had another thought. She clicked a few more times, until she found what she thought she remembered seeing. Another photo of the same selfie-inclined couple, but this time it was from farther out, maybe taken of them by someone else. And in the background …

“Lola,” Natasha whispered, and the pieces fell into place. “The girl is a SHIELD agent.”

She felt, rather than saw, Steve glance at her. “I thought you didn’t recognize her?”

“I don’t.”

“I thought you knew all Level Eight SHIELD agents?”

She shrugged, and the pinpoints in the back of her eyes pricked her harder. “I’m beginning to think there are a lot of things with SHIELD I didn’t actually know.” 

Steve’s hand on her shoulder squeezed her gently. “You really think he’s still SHIELD? For two years and we didn’t know, even though we were at headquarters almost every day. And he’s out there with a team of people-” — He waved at the photo — “-that we also don’t know. You really believe that?”

Natasha nodded, and then, to her absolute horror, she felt a drop of liquid slide out of the corner of her eye. Her cheeks burned in shame, and she pressed her hand to her mouth, quickly, before any untoward sounds could slip out, because that was the last thing she needed.

Steve’s hand slipped from her shoulder to the back of her neck and his fingers began to glide gently over her skin. She knew he knew she was crying, but thank god at least he was gentlemanly enough not to mention it.

“Okay,” he said. “So he’s alive, and was SHIELD, and is still SHIELD, and so is the girl. When was this taken?”

“About a week after the Triskillian fell.”

“That was four and a half months ago.”

“Yeah.”

Steve sighed. “Okay,” he said, “Any ideas where would they be now? There’s not exactly a headquarters anymore.” 

Natasha nodded. This part she had been thinking about for months. “Not all SHIELD bases are in the official documents,” she said. “Some only Fury knows.”

“You think he — his team — are at one of those?”

“It makes sense. Fury would want them somewhere they could access information and technology still. Somewhere they couldn’t be tracked.”

“That doesn’t help us find them, though,” he said. “Unless you know where these secret bases are?”

She shook her head. “No. I just know there are some.”

“So we’re just supposed to guess at them?”

She laughed, but it came out way too bitter. “Of course not,” she said. “We ask Maria.” 

“Maria knows?” 

“Maria knows everything.”

“You think she’s just going to tell us?”

“I think I can be very persuasive. And she owes me.”

“Okay. So we go to New York.”

“We go to New York.” She reached out a hand, almost involuntarily, and touched the screen. She had wanted so much to believe this had all been a mistake, that he was still dead. She hadn’t wanted to believe that this was just one more thing she thought she knew that was really just a lie. The hurt stung more than she thought it would.

Steve’s hand was still on her neck. “Nat?” he whispered after a few seconds of silence. “Let’s get you to bed first, okay? Then we’ll go to New York.”

She felt his hands slide under her arms, and he tugged her upright. A part of her wanted to lash out at him or pull away or yell at him to stop touching her, but the heaviness in her chest and her eyes wouldn’t let her. Instead she just let him wrap his arm around her and walk her into the bedroom and lay her down in bed.

He covered her up with a blanket, and then leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead. The compassion in his eyes when he looked at her was too much, but somehow she managed to last until he slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him before finally letting the tears flow.

•••

She had no idea what time it was when she blinked awake, but she felt like she had been run over by a train. Bright light was pouring in through the windows and she could hear the sound of voices in the other room. 

For a second, she just laid there, in Sam’s guest room, listening to the soft murmur of Steve and Sam talking, thinking about what came next. She had been so scared to get confirmation of Phil’s being alive that she hadn’t really thought about how she would feel, but now she just felt angry. Furiously angry. She wanted to find him and yell at him and maybe kick his ass.

He had always told her he would never lie to her, but yet he had kept this from her for _two years_. She had never really been close enough to anyone to truly hate someone, but she thought that maybe this is what it felt like.

She swung her legs out of bed and marched into the kitchen. Sam and Steve looked up at her in surprise.

“What?” she snapped, already stalking over to the coffee maker. She glared down at it, then turned back to the men. “Why is there no coffee?”

“Because it’s three in the afternoon,” Steve said softly.

She frowned. “How long did I sleep?”

“Six hours.”

Oh. So that explained why she still felt so groggy.

“Go back to bed, Nat,” Steve continued, but she was shaking her head before the words were even out.

“I can sleep later. Let’s just go.”

“Now?” Sam said.

She narrowed her eyes at him and put as much emphasis on her words as she could. “Yes, now. Or I’m going to go without you.”

Ten minutes later they were all in the car, Sam and Steve in the front. She wondered if they were stupid enough to actually believe she didn’t know they were talking about her, even if the words they said were just mouthed at each other and weren’t actually audible. But she didn’t really care. She crossed her arms and leaned her head back and thought about what she would say to Maria when they got there and what she wished she could actually say.

She must have fallen asleep not long after they left because the next thing she was aware of was Steve softly calling her name. She startled and blinked almost in horror as she realized they were entering the edge of New York City.

That was so unlike her. She rarely fell asleep in front of anyone. And never to the point that she wasn’t aware of what had been going on around her. This whole situation was getting to her more than she was comfortable with — losing control of her emotions last night and now this. She needed to get a grip.

She met Steve’s eyes. He was looking at her almost like he understood how she was feeling, and she quickly forced herself to shift her facial features into a neutral expression. His lip curved up slightly. 

“You want to tell us where we’re going?” he said to her, and she felt an immense wave of relief that he didn’t say anything about her being tired. 

“Yeah,” she said, sitting up and leaning forward so her arms could dangle into the front seat. She took a few seconds to get her bearings. “Downtown,” she said. “Twenty-third and Lexington. It’ll be the fourth exit after this next one.”

Twenty minutes later, she was directing them into a parking spot three blocks away. The sun had just sunk, and the streets around them were full of the bustle of a Wednesday evening in the city.

“Come on,” she said, getting out of the car. “Follow me.”

The building she led them to was a non-descript white apartment building that looked like it had seen better days.

“Are you sure this is it?” Sam glanced at her. “I imagined Maria would live in something more … luxurious.”

Natasha smiled at that. “Oh, she does,” she said, “but every SHIELD agent has their hiding spots.”

“And you’re sure she’ll come here?” Sam still did not look convinced, but Natasha stepped forward and punched in the passcode she knew by heart.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”

“Okay, I know you know everything and all that,” Sam said, as he and Steve reluctantly followed her inside, “but how exactly can you be so sure?”

“Simple,” she said, shrugging, as she directed them toward the staircase. “I told her to come here.”

•••

Three hours later, a key twisted in the lock and the door swung open. The three of them were waiting for Maria in the dark, something Sam had grumbled about but Natasha had silenced him with a look. She knew it was probably pretty likely that Maria had figured out the anonymous note was from her, but Natasha never left anything to chance, and hanging out in a well-lit apartment wasn’t exactly staying hidden.

Besides, they could never be sure these days if anyone was following them or was after them, and she knew without a doubt that if she led anyone to Maria — or to Phil — that she would never get the information she desperately needed to know.

And so they sat, quiet and still, and waited, until the lock twisted and a figure stepped inside, closing the door behind her but making no move to turn on the lights.

Finally, Maria spoke. “Are we going to sit in the dark and play games, or are we going to have a conversation like civilized people?” She paused, her words echoing around the apartment. “Up to you, Romanoff,” she finally added.

Natasha felt Sam and Steve stare at her in the dark.

“Lights are fine,” she said. 

She didn’t blink as the fluorescent overheads flashed on, but she could see that both Steve and Sam did. Maria nodded at the men. “Rogers. Wilson.” She looked at Natasha. “Interesting tactic here, Romanoff. You couldn’t just meet me at the office?”

“You know I couldn’t.”

“Because you’re going to ask me for something I can’t give you anyway?”

“You don’t know what I want,” Natasha said, and she kept her voice low, even. “And you owe me.”

Maria cocked her head at that but her eyes never left Natasha’s. “Do I?” she said.

“Yes.”

“I fail to see how.”

“You pretended for years to be my friend.” 

Maria looked like she was going to laugh. A small smile crept on to her face. “That’s what you think? I am your friend. Or as much of a friend as you let yourself have.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You’re not exactly a beacon of trust yourself, Natasha.” 

Natasha frowned at her. All the lies — Fury, SHIELD, Hydra, now Phil — played back in her mind. 

“I never lied to you,” she said to the woman in front of her, who was still staring at her in an amused way, like Natasha was a child who didn’t quite understand what the grownups were talking about. She had the urge to wipe that look off Maria’s face, but she fought it down. She would never get want she wanted if she did that. 

“Never?” Maria said to her now.

“Not when it was important.” 

“And I only lied to you when it was.” 

And there it was. That sting of truth hitting her across the face again. 

“I want to know where Phil is,” Natasha said, and Maria’s expression didn’t change at all. Not that it should. It was a lie she had perfected for two years.

“He’s dead.”

“He’s not.”

“Yes,” Maria said slowly. “He is. What is this about?”

Natasha scowled, but before she could answer, Steve jumped in. “We found a photo,” he said. “From three months ago. We know he’s alive.”

“He’s not.”

“I found his name,” Natasha said. “In the SHIELD files I released on to the internet.”

Maria smiled. “Now that I know is definitely not true.”

“I deleted them,” Natasha said. “No one else saw. Pierce and Fury were distracted. No one else knows.”

Maria’s smile faded, but the expression in her eyes was still cool. “Phil Coulson died two years ago,” she said.

“But he’s alive now,” Natasha said. “I know he is.”

She met Maria’s eyes, changed tactics. Maria knew her too well. She’d been there for everything — the trainings and the psych evals and too many interrogations. There was only one thing left to try.

She bit her lip, softened her expression. “Please,” she said, and it was the closest she had come to begging in as long as she could remember. “I need to know.”

“Why?”

_Why?_ It was the question, the one they all wanted to know. Steve asked her, Sam didn’t ask her but she saw it in his eyes, now Maria.

“He was …” she paused. He was her handler, once. He was her friend? She wasn’t sure about that anymore. He was someone she trusted, once, when she was afraid to ever trust anyone. He was one of two people who had cared about her when no one in her entire life had ever cared about her before. At least she thought he had. She wasn’t sure about that either. 

He was a good man, that she was sure of. A good agent. But that wasn’t going to be enough.

She settled on the closest thing to the truth she could find that she was willing to say out loud. “He believed in me. When no one else did. I just need to know if he’s alive.”

“And what would you do if you found him?”

She shrugged. “Talk to him.”

She could tell Maria wasn’t convinced. “I swear,” she said. “I just want to talk.”

The silence stretched on forever, the tension palpable. Finally, Maria slipped her hand into her pocket, pulled out her phone and typed something on it. Then she looked up and she focused directly on Natasha again.

“You try anything, you lead anyone to them in any way, shape or form, or any of them even gets a paper cut while you’re there, I will give permission for them to take you out. Is that clear?” 

Natasha nodded. “Crystal.”

Maria turned the phone around. There were coordinates listed on it. “You have thirty seconds,” she said. “You better not ask again.”

Five minutes later, Natasha, Sam and Steve were back at the car. Sam shook his head as they approached it. “I really thought there wasn’t a SHIELD anymore.” 

“There’s always a SHIELD,” Natasha said. 

She felt Steve touch her arm. “Tomorrow,” he said softly. “We’ll go find them.”

Natasha nodded and slipped into the car. It wasn’t until they were leaving the city, the lights of the night blazing behind them, that she realized she was shaking.


	3. Chapter 3

**[COULSON]**

The last thing he expected, after the day he had, was to walk into his office and find a redheaded assassin sitting in his chair with her feet propped up on his many files of papers, twirling a knife in her hand and wearing what could only be called a murderous expression.

He was so surprised he forgot to react like he wasn’t surprised at all. Instead, he stared at her for a beat, blinking to make sure she wasn’t an illusion, before schooling his features.

But by then it was too late. She had seen everything. Her glare intensified.

“Agent Romanoff,” he said calmly. “I see you found our new headquarters.”

She didn’t answer. Instead she stopped twirling the knife in her hand and pointed it right at him. He felt like she was trying to make a point.

A million thoughts raced through his mind at once. Why was she here, _how_ was she here, how had she gotten in without anyone knowing? That last one he knew she would never tell him. Besides, this was the Black Widow. If anyone was going to break into their very, very, very secure facility — as Koenig liked to assure him it was — without alerting anyone, it would be her. He made a mental note to have Skye and Koenig work on upgrading the security before he turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

In the eight years he had been her handler, she had never shown up unannounced to see him unless something was horribly wrong. He had a feeling now did not change that pattern, although he wasn’t sure yet what was wrong. She obviously knew he was alive, but was that enough to warrant breaking and entering without just going through Fury or Maria?

He decided to test the limits. 

“Do you mind giving me my desk back?”

“I do mind,” she said, and made no effort to move. For a moment, he had a crazy thought of just walking over there and pulling her up. But then he remembered she wasn’t his agent anymore, he didn’t know why she was here and technically she didn’t even work for SHIELD, so it was entirely probable she could snap his neck if she felt like it. 

He settled for small talk. “It’s good seeing you.”

And it was. Really good. It had been two years. Her hair was longer than the last time he’d seen her in person, but it was just as red. He’d seen her on television, of course, at the congressional hearings, defending what she and Captain Rogers had done, answering for SHIELD. But here, in his office, even if she was still looking at him like she wanted to kill him, she somehow looked younger. Smaller. More vulnerable.

He’d forgotten, in the years he’d been away, that she wasn’t really the larger-than-life presence she seemed to be in the media. 

“It’s unexpected seeing you alive.”

Ah. There it was.

“I wanted to tell you.” 

Her murderous glare wavered just a smidge. She looked almost like she was fighting with herself over something.

She spoke — “But you didn’t” — and he didn’t miss it. That tiny note of accusation, that even tinier note of hurt. Whether she meant for him to hear it or not (but if he was honest with himself, he knew incredibly well that Natasha never let people hear things she didn’t want them to hear), it sent the guilt flaring up. It hadn’t been his fault. He’d wanted to tell the Avengers for ages. He’d begged Fury, and Maria.

But maybe he should have tried harder. After all, Natasha hadn’t just been an Avenger. She’d been much more than that. Of everyone, she (and Clint) most deserved to know.

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?” he said. “So you just somehow found our location that no one else can find and broke into my office and stole my chair because it doesn’t matter and you don’t care?”

The murderous glare returned to full force. “Maybe I wanted to congratulate you on the promotion.”

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t.”

She shrugged, but she didn’t say anything else. Typical. Her stony silence was one thing he didn’t miss. Jemma and Skye’s overabundance of emotions at least gave him something to work with. Natasha just watched him like a tiger watching its prey, waiting to see where he would try to go next.

“How did you find out?”

She didn’t answer right away, just looked at him. Her lips pursed, and he felt something rush through him. A surge of recognition. She might be the world’s greatest assassin but even she had tells.

Though the fact that she was unhappy with him wasn’t really a secret.

“I saw your name on a file,” she finally said. She didn’t elaborate but she didn’t need to. Those files she’d released into cyberspace had almost destroyed their salvation. But that hadn’t been her fault.

“I had Skye … one of my agents … delete everything that was out there. She didn’t say there were files about me.”

“I deleted them. No one else saw them.”

He frowned at her. “Why?”

“It was obviously a secret. Why not?” The tiny touch of hurt in her voice was back. So was the intense feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach. 

“You believe everything you read in SHIELD files?”

She blinked. This time the hurt flashed clearly across her face. “I found a picture,” she said. “Of you in L.A. Taken a couple months ago.”

“And then?”

“And then I asked Maria.”

Of course she did.

He had one last question.

“SHIELD fell five months ago.”

She leveled him with a stare. “You died two and a half years ago.”

“I am sorry, Natasha,” he said. “I did want to tell you.”

Her lip curved up slightly and she shook her head. “No,” she said, and she sounded almost bitter. “No one wants to tell me things. If they did, they would.”

Coulson didn’t reply to that. He just looked at her. She hadn’t really moved during their conversation. She still had her feet propped up on his desk, probably soiling half his paperwork. The knife was still in her hand, although now she was just holding it. Her body language had the well-practiced look of someone nonchalant who really didn’t have a concern. But the look on her face — the lines between her eyes and the smile that really wasn’t and the slight tension in her shoulders — told him all he needed to know. Something was really bothering her, but whether it was just the fact that she had been lied to — and betrayed. They’d all been betrayed. By teammates and co-workers and friends. It still filled him with rage and intense hatred when he thought about Ward and the others, and she had helped Steve Rogers take down Hydra. Why wouldn’t she feel betrayed too? — or if it was something that went deeper, he wasn’t sure.

He was sure, though, that she wasn’t going to tell him. Not now anyway. Just as he wasn’t the same man who had held her hand for forty-eight hours after she had been shot through the abdomen and the SHIELD doctors warned him she might not make it, she wasn’t the same girl who whispered to him in a half-conscious delirium that she was scared and didn’t want to die. Who they had both been then — the way they had been with each other — was long gone.

He did still care about her, though. More than she would ever know.

“So what now? You saw me, you let me live — I assume Maria threatened you about that — you congratulated me on the promotion. Now you’re just going to disappear the way you came, which I will not ask you about, by the way?”

She sat up straighter, finally lowering her feet to the ground. “Yes,” she said, almost coldly, and he was surprised by how much the words punched him in the chest. “But first, I need a favor.”

That he hadn’t expected. 

“ _You_ need a favor?”

“For Steve,” she clarified.

“Rogers is here?” Coulson realized too late that he sounded a little too excited about that. She scowled at him.

“Yes, yes, I know he’s your favorite.”

“Natasha …”

She ignored that. “The point is, he’s trying to find the Winter Soldier. You’re director of SHIELD now. I assume you have technology the rest of us don’t.”

“You want help tracking the Winter Soldier?”

“No. I want you to help Steve track the Winter Soldier. He wants to find him. I don’t.”

“But you’re asking for him?”

“Yes.” She met his eyes, daring him to argue with her. He wasn’t really sure of her true intentions — and he doubted this is what she was hiding from him — but he let it go.

“Okay,” he said. “Does this mean you’re staying?” 

Her scowl deepened. “No,” she almost snarled. “Just help him and then we’ll leave.”

Coulson felt like he should back away with his hands in the air in surrender, but he reminded himself he was in charge here. And if she hadn’t tried to kill him yet, she probably wasn’t going to.

“So where is he at? You didn’t both break in together?”

She snorted. “Right,” she said. “Captain America is going to break into SHIELD headquarters. Or whatever this is. No, he’s outside. With a friend. Sam Wilson. You might have seen him on TV. I’m sure they’re both out there, acting like the civilized agents you always prefer.”

“Natasha …”

He searched for the right words to say, to tell her she was wrong about him, to tell him he never stopped caring — but it was too late. Before he could find the words, she was across the room, throwing open the door and heading into the rest of The Playground.

•••

In some ways, Coulson’s new little team was worse than an entire headquarters filled with SHIELD agents. In the approximately two seconds it took him to reach the door to his office, it almost seemed like word had already spread of their new arrivals. 

He found Skye and Trip standing at the bottom of the staircase, gaping up at him, eyes wide in amazement. 

“Black Widow!” Skye said. “You didn’t tell us.”

“I didn’t know,” Coulson replied, walking by them. He looked around, but Natasha was nowhere to be seen. May was there, though, lips curved into a bit of grimace. She didn’t have to say why. Coulson knew she talked to Natasha here and there. If Natasha was furious with him for being alive and not telling her, she was also furious with May for being part of his team and lying to her about it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered under his breath to May as he passed her. He wanted to go look for Natasha, but he knew she wouldn’t be found if she didn’t want to be, so the least he could do was go greet Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson and hope neither of them was as hard to deal with.

“Not your fault,” May said back, but she didn’t sound happy about any of it, and Coulson couldn’t blame her.

Rogers and Wilson were standing right where Natasha had said they would be, waiting in an undetected area just outside the entrance. They turned to him when he walked out, and Coulson was pleased to see a grin spread across Rogers’ face.

“Agent Coulson,” he said, and his eyes almost twinkled. “You are alive.”

Coulson stepped forward — Skye and Trip and May were all right behind him, Skye and Trip almost stepping on his heels — and stuck his hand out. “I believe you know a little something about defying the odds, Captain.”

Rogers took his hand and shook it. “Not so easy coming back to the world.”

“No,” Coulson said, and tried not to think about it — what had been done to him, the pain, the horror, the wondering if everything he remembered was even real. “It’s not.” He turned to Wilson, standing by Rogers’ side. “Sam Wilson?” he said. “Phil Coulson. Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure is mine,” Wilson said, also shaking his hand. 

Coulson turned to the trio behind him. “Captain, Sam, this is part of my team. We’re a bit small at the moment, but we have to start somewhere. This is Antoine Triplett …”

Trip reached out to shake both their hands, a grin across his face. “Call me Trip,” he said. “And it’s a huge honor to meet you,” he said to Rogers. “My grandfather was a Howling Commando.”

“Well, then the honor is all mine,” Rogers said.

Coulson continued. “And this is Skye. She’s our newest agent.”

“Made it all the way to Level One before SHIELD disappeared,” Skye said wryly, shaking their hands.

“And Melinda May. Rogers, you probably know her.”

“I do.”

To Sam he added, “She’s one of the very best agents we have. I’m lucky to have her on our side.”

May didn’t shake either of their hands, just nodded. “Captain Rogers. Wilson.”

“Let’s go inside,” Coulson said. “We try not to stand around where people can find us.”

He led them in, waiting for Rogers to meet his stride. “Natasha didn’t happen to come back out to you, did she?”

Rogers narrowed his eyes. “I thought she’d be with you.”

“She’s furious with me.”

“Yeah,” he said. “She is.” He looked around. “She needs to stop running, though,” he said, voice low. Coulson wondered if he was meant to hear it.

“She’ll show up,” Coulson said. “She always does.”

“Does she?” Rogers said, and again he had a tone of voice that made Coulson wonder what he really meant. But he didn’t ask. Instead he just led them further inside.

•••

“Natasha said you’ve been trying to track the Winter Solider?” 

It was a couple hours later. Rogers and Wilson had been given the grand tour. Natasha was still conspicuously absent. The team had mostly returned to work, though Coulson could see them glancing over and taking way more breaks than normal, trying to sneak a peek and get an idea of what was happening.

He actually wasn’t sure what was happening. Rogers and Wilson were friendly and polite and didn’t seem at all bothered to be talking with him. They seemed curious about the base and who everyone was, and they even treated Fitz when they met him as they would any other agent. But none of them had mentioned Natasha since they walked inside, and Coulson could feel the unsaid tension just hovering in the air.

But the Winter Solider they could start with.

Rogers nodded at his question. “Yes,” he said. “But we’re not having much luck. Lots of dead ends.”

“All dead ends,” Wilson said, and Rogers shot him a look. Wilson laughed. “All dead ends,” he repeated. “Not that it hasn’t been fun, though.”

Coulson nodded. “Well, you’re welcome to whatever we have here,” he told them. “We don’t have much but we have some technology left over from SHIELD and we have ways of getting information you don’t. And we have Skye. She’s the best hacker SHIELD has. If anyone can find what you’re looking for, she can.”

Rogers looked thoughtful. Coulson could see the question in his eyes — _Is she better than Natasha?_ — but he didn’t ask and Coulson didn’t offer an answer. Instead Rogers said, “I’d like that actually.”

“Great,” Coulson said. “We’re happy to help. You can stay as long as you want. If you want to stay.”

“Yeah,” Rogers said. “We’re not sure about that.”

“Didn’t expect you to be.” He smiled at them. “Though if you miss it too much, you are welcome to join us the next time we have a mission.”

At that, Rogers smiled, almost sadly, his eyes scanning the room. 

“You do miss it, don’t you?” The words were out of Coulson’s mouth before he could decide if they were really appropriate, but he recognized the man’s expression. The look of someone who doesn’t know exactly what to do when there isn’t a battle to fight, even if all he had wanted before was for the battle to end.

“Some of it,” Rogers said. “Some not so much.”

“Like the lies.” Coulson didn’t need an answer to that. “I’m sorry for not telling you I was still alive.”

“Hey.” Rogers shook his head. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You did what you had to do. I learned that much at SHIELD. Everyone compartmentalizes.”

“Not everyone,” Coulson said, “And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell you.”

“You weren’t allowed to.”

“Well, yes. I wasn’t allowed to. But also … it’s complicated.” He paused, wondering how much he should say. Most likely, the three of them would be gone before morning and there was a really good chance he wouldn’t see any of them again, so why did it matter if Rogers or Wilson believed him?

Because maybe they would tell Natasha if she wouldn’t let him tell her himself and maybe she would someday forgive him.

“I did die,” he finally said. “That wasn’t a lie. And I came back. And it was … I didn’t know for a while. Not the full extent of what happened. I know that sounds strange, but I didn’t, and then when I found out … it was complicated. There are still some parts I don’t know.” He took a breath. “This job is my life. It’s what I have. I was ordered not to tell anyone. I didn’t tell anyone. And then when SHIELD fell …” Coulson spread his hands. “Well, when you’re going underground, it’s not really a great idea to tell everyone where you are.”

Both Wilson and Rogers were watching him solemnly.

“Sounds intense,” Wilson said.

Coulson managed a smile. “Things at SHIELD always are. You sure you don’t want in on it?”

Wilson gestured to Rogers. “I go where he goes,” he said. “But if we do end up staying for a few days, I don’t think I’d say no to a little action.”

Rogers shook his head. “Let’s just see if we can get any leads on Bucky.” He looked at Coulson. “It’s okay to go talk to Skye?”

“Be my guest,” Coulson said. “She’s a great agent. You’ll like her.”

“I think I already do,” Wilson said, and Rogers actually laughed.

“Of course you do,” he said. “Of course you do.”

“What is that supposed to me?”

“It means she’s a pretty girl.”

“Well, yeah,” Wilson said. “Duh.” And they both got up to go find Skye.

•••

Coulson pressed a hand to the center of his forehead and tried to breathe in deep. He could feel it — that _thing_ inside of him, buried deep in his blood — fighting to get out. He knew he was going to need to shut himself away and just let go. Soon. Tonight probably. But he had to hold on a few more hours.

Rogers and Wilson had been with Skye for hours. No one had mentioned anything about them staying, but it was past midnight now. They weren’t going to leave. And with a spy skulking around anywhere and everywhere she wanted, Coulson wasn’t really eager to give in to the drawings in his head if there was a chance someone was going to find out. 

His eyes flicked to the sides. He was standing at the top of the stairs, outside his office, looking down, but no one was in sight. He scanned the shadows along the walls, searching them quickly, like he thought she might pop out of them at any moment, but everything was still. He fought down a touch of worry that said no one had seen her for eight or nine hours. This was Natasha. She was more capable of taking care of herself than anyone else. She might even have left, for all they knew, except she’d made it sound like she wouldn’t leave without them right before she had slipped out of his office earlier. 

He sighed. The bubble of guilt that had first appeared the moment he saw her was only getting bigger, threatening to choke him. The pressure in his head only made it worse. He was afraid of what was happening to him, of what it meant. If he went crazy, if he lost his mind … he wished she hadn’t found him if he was only going to die again. It would have been better if she had never known.

Not that it mattered, he reminded himself. They would leave soon. They wouldn’t come back. He wasn’t her handler. He wasn’t her boss. He wasn’t anything to her anymore, except maybe someone else from her past who betrayed her. His death now wouldn’t mean anything.

Somehow that thought didn’t make him feel any better, and he rubbed at his temples again.

“Long day,” came the voice beside him, and he turned, smiling at one of his favorite familiar faces.

“A day full of a lot of surprises.”

“All our days are full of surprises.”

He managed a laugh. “Yes.” He paused. Then, “She’s surlier than I remember.”

May smiled sadly. “She’s hurt.”

He tilted his head as he looked at her and frowned. Natasha was angry. He knew that. Furious actually. She was betrayed. He had a suspicion that was where most of her anger was coming from. But was she really hurt? Sure, he’d seen flickers of it on her face earlier, but Natasha could feign anything she wanted. 

Or maybe it was just easier to pretend she didn’t care than acknowledge that maybe she did.

“I didn’t think she got hurt.”

May’s eyes actually narrowed. “Don’t,” she said.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do that. You know her.”

“Not anymore,” he replied, and that he knew deep in his heart was the painful truth. Two years was a long time. It was even longer when it was someone like Natasha, who was used to breaking ties and going her own way.

May let out a huff of air. “I’m going to overlook that comment because you’re my friend and you’re going through a lot, and I know you didn’t need a pissed off assassin showing up in your office on top of everything else.”

“But?” he prodded.

“But you spent eight years with her. And I know what she means to you. And trying to make her out to be the bad guy isn’t fair. She’s entitled to feel what she feels.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t.”

“But you’d prefer to pretend she doesn’t care. Which is a bit ironic, since you spent all that time trying to teach her it was okay to feel things.” May shrugged a shoulder. “And now you’re upset with her that she does.”

“I didn’t think she listened to a word I said.”

“You know very well that’s not true.”

Coulson sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He felt May move closer to him, felt her reach out and put a hand on his arm.

“Come on, Phil.” Her voice was quiet when she spoke. “I know how you felt about Natasha.”

He looked at her. “The same way I feel toward all my agents.”

“The same way you feel toward Skye, you mean.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” she said. “I’m not saying it is.”

She didn’t elaborate, but she didn’t have to. From the day he’d found her, he had felt something for Skye he hadn’t felt for any of the others. A fatherly attachment. A need to protect her. 

But what May was saying …

He had never really had that with Natasha. Had he? Skye needed him back, thanked him for giving her a home. Natasha had done what he’d asked her to, but she had kept him at an arm’s length, the same way she kept everyone.

Except for those few rare occasions ...

He _had_ tried to protect her — from herself, from her past, from all the things she didn’t really understand she had missed or that she didn’t know were wrong — had tried to show her she could have somewhat of a normal life, had tried to get her to realize she wasn’t alone. But in the end it hadn’t been enough. She would never let him in. Skye was a new chance to get it right.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter now,” he finally said to May. “I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

“She doesn’t,” May said. “She loves you.”

He smiled ruefully at that. “I can almost guarantee Natasha doesn’t love anyone.”

“Okay,” May said. “But she cares about you. At least she cares what you think of her. She wouldn’t be so upset if she didn’t. She wouldn’t be _here_ if she didn’t.”

“They want to find the Winter Soldier.”

“Steve Rogers wants to find the Winter Soldier. Sam Wilson wants to help Captain America do whatever he wants to do. Do you really think Natasha is here because she cares that much about finding the Winter Soldier?”

He thought back to her leaping to her feet, telling him she needed a favor.

“She wants to help Rogers.”

“She could have helped him anywhere. She still could. She came to find you. She’s here because you are. And if she ends up staying, it’s because you’re here.”

“What are you trying to tell me, May? I feel like you’re trying to tell me something.”

“I’m just saying that no matter how she feels about you — or you think she feels about you — and no matter how much you tell yourself she was just another agent, we both know you cared about her. I know you wanted to tell the Avengers you were alive, but especially her. I’m just saying she knows now, she’s here. Maybe not for long. But that makes this even more important to do it now. You wanted a second chance, you have it, so take it.”

“That’s all you were trying to tell me?”

May smiled. “No,” she said. “I was also going to say to be careful with her and Skye. You treated Natasha like a daughter, then she thought you died and you went and found another one. You might think she doesn’t have feelings, but you’d be wrong. That’s what I’m saying.”

“You’re trying to tell me _Natasha Romanoff_ , arguably the best agent SHIELD ever had, is going to be jealous of a former hacker for the Red Tide? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“That’s the thing,” May answered. “I’m not. And I think you know that.”

He was about to say something in response but he never had the chance. Footsteps pounded on the stairs, and he and May both spun around to see Rogers, Wilson, Skye and Trip standing there, all four of them a little out of breath.

“What’s going on?” Coulson asked quickly. “You found something?”

“No.” Rogers answered for them all. “That’s the problem.”

Coulson raised an eyebrow, but Rogers had only stopped to suck in a little air. “No one’s seen Natasha since this afternoon. We know she’s angry, but it’s not like her to make us purposely worry.”

Coulson’s own bubble of worry that he had been repressing for the past few hours sprung to the surface. 

“Are you sure,” he said, deadly serious, “that she wouldn’t just leave?”

“No,” Wilson said as Rogers answered, “Positive.”

Wilson glanced at Rogers and then shrugged. “But he knows her best.”

“I do,” Rogers said, and his voice was as serious as Coulson’s had been. “She wouldn’t leave without telling us in some way or another. She wanted to come here. She knew you were alive. Despite what she told us, she was never going to just turn around and leave after, what, five minutes?”

“Okay,” Coulson said. “Where have you looked?”

“It feels like everywhere,” Wilson said.

Rogers held up his phone. “We tried calling her. It goes straight to voicemail.”

“Okay,” Coulson said. “Then let’s look everywhere again. If she didn’t leave, she has to be here somewhere. So let’s find her.”

Everyone turned to head back down the stairs.

“Oh,” Coulson called after them. “When I say everywhere, I mean _everywhere_. You’d be surprised the places she can fit into.”

The group resumed its tromp back down the stairs. He watched as they all spread out, calls of “Natasha!” and “Agent Romanoff” and even a “This really isn’t funny anymore!” echoing around. Coulson glanced at May. 

“I’m sure she’s fine,” May said quietly, but she headed down the stairs without another word.

•••

He was close to giving up, close to cornering Rogers and asking him one more time if he was really, truly sure he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t just leave. She had been furious. And that had been before she saw May and realized someone else had lied to her as well. She had never been the type to pout or flounce, but this wasn’t a normal situation, and it was true that time had passed and things had changed since he last saw her. Or maybe she’d only ever really intended to bring Rogers and Wilson to him and the team. Maybe she’d always planned to leave. 

He knew she and Rogers had been partners after the Battle of New York, knew they were fugitives from SHIELD together when the Triskillian fell, but that is all he knew. What they were beyond that, Coulson had no idea. He wondered if Rogers did either, if he really honestly knew for certain that she wouldn’t just leave if that was what she wanted to do?

But just as he was about to turn around and head off to find Rogers, to order everyone to stop and to just go to bed — and to lock himself in his office and finally let this _thing_ out of his mind — there came a shout. A rather loud shout.

“Coulson! Over here!”

Hunter was in front of the security camera monitors, Eric Koenig at his side. Hunter was pointing at something, and when Coulson entered the room, Hunter turned. He looked a little off-balance, like he wasn’t really sure what he was seeing.

“You find something?” Coulson asked. He moved toward the monitors, following the line of Hunter’s arm. Behind him, Rogers, Wilson and Skye dashed into the room, followed mere seconds later by Mack and Melinda. Only Fitz was missing.

The monitor Hunter was looking at was one of the outside ones, the ones that roamed and made sure no one had found them or was trying to get in. At first Coulson couldn’t make out anything, just the shadows of tree branches and the dark of night, but then he realized what Hunter had seen. Curled up in the center of one of the trees, arms and legs pulled into her chest, was a figure that could only be Natasha.

And something was wrong. He knew it instantly. She looked like she was shaking, and in the silence of the room, he could hear a soft moan.

“I’ll get her,” Coulson said instantly. “Rogers come with me. The rest of you stay here.”

“But …” Skye started, but she quickly silenced at Coulson’s look. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll stay right here.”

••• 

The crisp September air hit them as soon as they stepped into the outside world. It was colder than he would have expected, and the wind stung his face. He didn’t hesitate, though, flying through the trees to the one that was on the security monitor, Rogers at his heels.

He drew up short when he reached it, stopping to take in the situation. Natasha was curled up in a ball, just like they had seen on the security monitors, in a little nook of the tree where three branches met. She was lying on her side, her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. And just like they had seen on the monitors, she was indeed trembling, her entire body shaking slightly, and soft moans were escaping her lips. 

Her eyes were open — Coulson hadn’t actually expected that — but she didn’t seem to be seeing anything. She was just staring straight ahead, pupils almost blown. And despite the cold air, her skin looked clammy, and there were beads of sweat across her forehead.

Fear clenched in Coulson’s gut, and he glanced around warily. What had happened out here? Had someone hurt her?

He didn’t see anything, except Rogers who looked as scared as he felt.

“What’s wrong with her?” Rogers whispered, and Coulson shook his head, stepping forward so his legs were against the tree and he was just millimeters away from her. He didn’t touch her, though. Instead he bent his knees slightly, so he could be just above eye level with her.

“Natasha,” he said softly. When she didn’t reply, he spoke louder, in a more normal tone of voice. “Natasha?”

Rogers stepped forward, so he was shoulder to shoulder with Coulson.

“Nat?” he said, and he reached out and touched her arm. Almost immediately, Natasha let out a high-pitched wail, and her whole body jerked to the left. She went tumbling out of the tree, arms and legs flailing, straight into Coulson’s arms.

The weight of her falling against him knocked him off balance, and he stumbled backward, but he managed to hang on to her.

He felt her shift in his arms, and he was afraid she was going to try and kick him or punch him, but instead he looked down in time to see her blink and watched as recognition dawned in her eyes.

“Phil?” she croaked.

He carefully set her down, so she was sitting on the ground, leaning back against the tree. She turned her head to Rogers.

“Steve?” she said. She sounded hoarse, a little groggy. “What happened?”

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Rogers said softly.

She blinked at him, eyes wide, but she didn’t say anything. She was still shaking, and Coulson could tell by the way she was clenching her fists that she was ready to spring at any moment. Rogers looked up and met his eyes, and Coulson just shook his head.

“Come on,” he said. “It’s cold and it’s late. You guys can stay here tonight, and we’ll talk about this in the morning.” He saw Natasha raise her brows, and he added quickly. “If you want to.”

He let Rogers help her to her feet, and he watched as the captain wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steady her. Natasha stumbled on the first step, but by the time they walked back inside, she looked steady. She shrugged Rogers’ arm off as they crossed the threshold.

“I’m fine,” she murmured. “You don’t have to baby me.”

“Nat …” Rogers started. 

“Drop it, Rogers.”

Coulson waited until they had reunited with everyone else and Skye had agreed to show their three guests to the spare rooms before slipping away. He knew something had happened to Natasha today, and the worry gnawed at him, but there was something he had to do first. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything if this _thing _didn’t get out of him.__

__May was waiting for him when he got to his office. “Do what you need to do,” she said._ _

__He did._ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this chapter follows the SHIELD episode 2.3, "Making Friends and Influencing People." I realized a little late that there is maybe not totally enough explanation if you aren't familiar with that episode, but the main plot should hopefully be easy to understand even without that familiarity.

**[SKYE]**

It said something about her life that sitting down for breakfast across from Captain American and Falcon was not even close to one of the weirdest, or coolest, things she had done in the past year, although she couldn’t lie and say it didn’t give her a weird thrill. It was, after all, _Captain America_. Two years ago, when she was just a hacker for the Red Tide, living out of her van and imagining life was as good as it was going to get, she had watched all the news footage of the Battle of New York, seen Steve Rogers brush away all the women and the reporters who tried to fawn after him. And why shouldn’t they? He was gorgeous, with those insane blue eyes, and the way he looked at people — like he could see everything about them, like he could understand every part of them.

Oh, geez, what was she doing?

Skye shoved a piece of toast in her mouth and hoped Steve hadn’t noticed her staring. That would be the last thing she needed. If Jemma were still around, she would tease her about it for days.

Jemma. She missed her. A lot. She was with them the whole time, they had been friends, almost sisters … and then she was just gone, without a word, without a goodbye. 

It hurt. A lot. 

She blinked as she realized Steve had said something to her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s been a weird few weeks.”

He nodded, his lip curving upward slightly. “You’re telling me,” he said, and suddenly she felt really stupid. Of course things had been weird for her, for everyone on Coulson’s team, with the revelation about Ward and then trying to find a safe spot to land and finally coming to The Playground, only to have Jemma disappear and Hartley die, but at the end of the day, they were still SHIELD agents — at least in most of the ways that mattered — and they were still — mostly — together. Steve had his whole life uprooted, and then he found out about Coulson and now there was whatever the weird thing was that was going on with Natasha last night. 

“Is Nata … Agent Romanoff okay?” She wasn’t sure that was an appropriate question. Hell, she wasn’t even sure how to address her — Steve and Sam had told her right away she could, and should, refer to them by their first names but the only contact she’d had with Natasha was when she showed her to a room and asked her if she needed anything and she’d coldly replied with “I’ve got it.”

But neither Steve nor Sam seemed upset that she asked. Sam spread his hands, palms up, and shrugged. “Who even knows?”

Steve glanced at him, a little sharply, but just said, “We haven’t really seen her this morning.”

Skye wanted to ask if they were sure she was still around, but instead she said, “Do you want to do some more searching for the Winter Solider today? Or do you need to head back?”

Steve shook his head. “Well, since heading back would just be to sit around and try to find Bucky and you’re here — and Coulson says you’re the best” — Skye smiled at that. — “I think we’re good with staying here.” He looked at Sam.

“All good,” Sam said. He grinned at Skye. “And the company is _much_ better here. Easier on the eyes too.” He winked.

Skye took a sip of her orange juice and hoped like hell she wasn’t blushing.

“Besides,” Steve said. “We don’t want to leave without talking to Coulson, and I saw him slipping out earlier.”

“Yeah,” Skye said. “Director stuff. He does that a lot lately.” She shrugged. “You learn not to ask.”

“Sounds like SHIELD,” Steve said.

Skye smiled wryly. “Some things never change.”

•••

Coulson found the three of them hunched over security footage from the White House — Trip had stopped by to tell them he saw some reports on social media of people reporting seeing a man in a mask there — a few hours later. Apparently he was back from wherever it was he had disappeared to.

“Skye,” he said. “I need you for something.”

“Sir?” she said. She looked at the two men beside her. 

“It’s fine,” Steve said. “Do what you need to do.”

“It won’t take long,” Coulson promised.

“It’s fine,” Steve said again. He stood up. “I’m going to go check on Natasha. She hasn’t been around yet today.”

“What?” Coulson looked up in surprise. “No one’s talked to her?”

“Ummm,” Skye said, “She doesn’t seem like the type you talk to unless she talks to you first.”

Beside her Sam let out a little snort, and Skye knew she was right. But she went on because Coulson was looking at her like that was not really an acceptable answer. “But don’t worry. We got Fitz to help with the security footage for the rooms. He said she’s still here. She didn’t disappear.”

“Okay,” Coulson frowned, then turned to Steve. “Just make sure she’s still …” He paused like he was looking for the right word. Skye wanted to offer conscious or maybe sane, but Coulson just said, “Okay. Make sure she’s okay.” Then he gestured for Skye to follow him.

He led her up to his office and closed the door behind him. 

“I need you to talk to Ward again,” he said quietly, and Skye felt her heart drop.

“Sir?” she said. 

“I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t ask you unless it’s important.”

“So I take it it’s important.”

“Very.” He moved behind his desk and ruffled through a few papers, before taking out a photo and handing it to her. “Remember our good friend Donnie Gill?”

She stared at the photo. “Ice boy?” she said, recalling a sudden winter storm and students freezing in place.

“That’s the one. Looks like he’s up next on Hydra’s wish list. We want to get to him first.”

“So you want me to talk to Ward to … what?”

“Just find out what he knows. What Hydra’s plans might be. Just in case.”

“I really don’t like these just in cases,” Skye said.

Coulson smiled at her. “Yeah,” he said. “You and me both.”

•••

She placed her foot on the first step and waited until the butterflies disappeared, then pushed her shoulders back, tried to remember what May had been teaching her about acting confident, and marched down the stairs, pounding the button to open the partition between him and her immediately.

“Hello, Skye,” he said almost instantly, and smiled at her.

She focused on keeping her face neutral, on just looking back at him like he was nothing more than a means to an end. Which he was. Except he wasn’t, because just the image of him sent chills through her blood and made her want to vomit. She wished they had shipped him off to somewhere she never had to see him again, so she didn’t have to stare into the eyes of someone she once thought she could have loved and have him look at her like he did her a favor, but she wasn’t in charge and it wasn’t her decision and she had to do what was best for everyone. 

And right now finding out what Hydra may or may not do to Donnie Gill was what was best for everyone.

“I want to know what Hydra does to gifted people to get them to come on its side,” she said.

“Why?” he said.

“I ask the questions, remember? And you get to stay here and see me. That’s the deal.”

Ward spread his hands. “Sorry I asked,” he said. He didn’t sound sorry. “You’re right.”

“I want to know what Hydra does to gifted people to get them to come on its side,” she repeated.

“Well, they're not exactly what you'd call welcoming.”

She hadn’t figured they would be. “They don't give you a choice,” she said. “So what do they give you? Money? Threats? Torture? Combo platter?”

“They're good at convincing people.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, they suckered you in.”

“No. I was never loyal to Hydra. I was loyal to Garrett.”

Of course he was. Loyal to the madman who had wanted to kill them all in the name of some messed up belief that Hydra would be their salvation. “Garrett is the reason you're a cold-blooded killer.”

“I don't blame him for the choices I've made.”

She almost snorted at that. “Right. I seem to remember you blaming your brother. Or was it your parents? Man, I can't keep up.”

“My family tore me down. Garrett built me back up the way he wanted.”

“We're all aware of who your family is, Ward. Not only are they respected, they're pretty much loved.”

“Well, every family has its secrets. Yours does, too.”

And there it was again. She had only had to come see him a few times before — Coulson at least was good at keeping her away from him most of the time — but each time she came it happened. Words designed to get to her, to make her want to know more. And the worst part was she did. She hated him and did not trust him for a minute, but the way he would look at her and say these things …

“You ever wonder why,” she started, and then she stopped. No. She couldn’t do this. “You know what?” She cleared her throat, forced herself away from the temptation. “My bad. I slipped. Talked to you like a normal person. Let's stay on task.”

“You make the rules.”

She didn’t answer, just waited. Finally he took a breath and began to talk. “Hydra's protocol on gifteds is pretty straightforward. An acquisition team is sent out to convince or capture the gifted. If those two options aren't possible, then they'll take them out.”

“Even if the gifted doesn't pose a threat?”

“A gifted that refuses Hydra _is_ a threat. And threats are taken care of quickly.”

Of course they were. Skye scoffed. “That's the difference between SHIELD and Hydra.” And the reason why she liked the side she was on just fine.

Ward apparently didn’t agree. He was looking at her with a bit of that smirk that made her want to wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze. “And that's why Hydra will win,” he said, almost smugly. “Because while a SHIELD agent is considering right and wrong, Hydra's already taken the shot.”

•••

Things happened fast. Skye reported in to Coulson, who didn’t seem very shocked by the news, and five minutes later May was reporting they had found a cargo ship frozen in ice.

“This Gill is not very subtle, is he?” Sam said. He and Steve had obviously been brought up to speed during the time Skye was gone, and now they were all standing around the monitors that showed the location of the frozen ship. Not that it surprised her. They were Falcon and Captain America. Of course Coulson wanted them coming along.

Coulson almost smirked. “Trip, how long till you can have the bus in the air?” he asked. 

“Fifteen, tops,” Trip said. 

“You heard him.” Coulson gestured at all of them standing there — Sam, Steve, May, Hunter and Skye. “If you want to go, you have fifteen minutes to gather your gear and get on board. No time to waste.”

“I’m in,” Sam said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen some action.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll go get Nat. See if she wants to come.”

Coulson nodded, then turned to May, Skye and Hunter. “And you three don’t get a choice. Stuff. Now.”

Ten minutes later, everyone was on board, even Natasha, who Skye was actually surprised to see. She wondered where she’d been hiding. If that’s what she had been doing. Maybe she had been spying on all of them. No one had mentioned what had happened the night before. Skye actually doubted anyone _knew_ what happened the night before, except Natasha, who didn’t seem like she was talking about it. If she had been any other person, Skye would have wondered if she was embarrassed, but she was pretty sure pesky normal emotions like embarrassment weren’t things the Black Widow had, and instead she just found herself watching the other woman from across the Bus as they all strapped themselves in.

She seemed fine, if rude and untouchable was fine. The frosty expression she was wearing did not falter for an instant, and Skye noticed when May started to say something to her, Natasha walked away so fast even May looked a bit startled. 

They obviously had history; that much was clear. Skye wondered what the heck was going on. She contemplated if she could maybe ask Sam about it at some point if they happened to find themselves alone. 

“Okay.” Coulson looked them all over once they were airborne and on route, stopping on each one of them as though he were assessing them all. “It’s nice to have a bigger group again,” he said. “But everyone knows what we’re doing right? We’re trying to get control of the asset before Hydra does. So do what you have to do, but only if you have to do it.”

Coulson glanced at May. “May, you take Wilson, Hunter, Romanoff and Skye. You’re in charge. Trip, Rogers and I will stay here and man the communications. If anything goes wrong, Rogers will step in.” He turned to Sam. “No wings this time, Falcon. We don’t want to actually alert anyone to who you are. You’re going to have to chute in like everyone else.”

Sam nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

Coulson looked around. “Everyone else good?” All nods. “Okay, then. Everyone suit up. We’re forty minutes out.”

•••

Skye forced herself to breath deeply as she strapped her chute on. May had been training her to keep calm, to keep focused. She felt Hunter come up beside her.

“Your first jump?” he asked.

“Second,” she replied. “First was with Coulson and Lola.” She saw the confused expression on his face and decided he must not have made his way down to the garage of the bunker yet. “It's a car. It flies.” His look remained unchanged. “Yeah, this is my first.”

“It's okay to be scared.”

“I'm not scared.”

He almost smiled at her. “Maybe you should be. I packed your chute. And according to my ex, my folding skills are abysmal.”

“Hmm.”

“Nice thing is, this is as scary as it gets. Once you jump, physics takes over.”

Yeah, she wasn’t sure she needed to hear that now. She just needed to do this.

“Yeah, I'm good,” she said. “Thanks.”

May and Coulson walked up to them. “Trip says two minutes out,” May said.

“Remember,” Coulson added. “Donnie Gill's a gifted. He could be a formidable weapon for either side. Let's make sure it's ours.”

And then it was time. Skye walked down the lowered ramp of the quinjet, peering over the edge to see the ship below. Sam was beside her. Somehow that made her feel a bit more settled. 

“Ready to do this thing?” he asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, and then she marched forward and jumped. She could hear the swish of air as Sam jumped after her. Then the sound of three more people coming after that. Then the sound of gunshots filling the air.

_Oh, fuck_.

They barely managed to duck out of the way, hidden behind posts on the upper level of the cargo ship, as men — most definitely Hydra agents — went running by. Natasha looked like she wanted to go after them, but Skye saw Steve grab her arm.

May clicked on her comm. “Coulson, we're not alone.”

His voice sounded in all their ears. “Not what I hoped, but not unexpected. Proceed. Let me know when you have eyes on Gill.”

“Copy that,” May said.

Hunter jumped down to the lower level first, looking backward. “Skye, you cover the door.”

She frowned at him as she landed beside him. “You don't give the orders, Trainspotting.”

“I'm not Scottish.”

Before she could ask him what the hell he was then, May jumped down next to them. “Skye, you and Romanoff protect the exit route. Hunter, Wilson and I will take the inside, try to block Gill in.”

“Roger that,” Skye said, then smiled sweetly at Hunter, who rolled his eyes and hurried after May. Skye laughed. There were some days — a lot of days really — when she missed how things were before, when she missed the days back when she and Fitz and Jemma and even Ward had sat around and pulled pranks on each other and told jokes and stories and just laughed for hours. Now, remembering those days hurt, like someone stabbing her over and over in the heart, and the memories were tainted, like paint spilled over a book of photos. She thought back to those moments and wondered if any of it was real, wondered if Fitz would ever get back to that, if Jemma would ever return. And then most of the time she stopped thinking about those moments because it was easier not to. 

But then there were small moments like this, with Hunter or Trip or even Mack, and she felt like maybe, just maybe, they could have that again, even if it was with a different cast and crew.

She smiled to herself as she hoisted herself back up to the upper level, taking up her post just above the right side of the door. Natasha automatically positioned herself on the left side, and both of them waited. No one was talking over the comms, but she could make out the faint sounds of people moving through the ship.

And then a voice she hadn’t expected to hear — Fitz’s voice — came over the speaker. “Donnie didn't escape the Sandbox! He took the Sandbox for Hydra.”

Skye’s eyes opened wide. She glanced sharply to the left, but Natasha hadn’t moved a muscle. She was still staring straight ahead, a pistol in each hand.

“Hydra recruited Gill?” Skye heard Coulson say.

“Uh the …. the brain. … the brain.” Fitz sounded frustrated. He paused for a second. “They brainwashed him. And they're gonna re-trigger his programming if they can.”

“How do you know this?” Coulson asked.

“I spoke to Ward,” Fitz answered.

“Well, shit,” Skye whispered to herself, not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

“We'll talk about that when I get home,” Coulson was saying. “Nice work, Fitz. May, Hunter, do either of you have eyes on Gill?”

It was Hunter that answered. “Target is talking to Hydra.”

“End that conversation,” Coulson said. “Now.”

“Copy that.”

Skye took a deep breath and used the moment of silence to adjust her own gun. Their area of the ship was quiet, but she knew it probably wouldn’t be for long. She placed one hand over her comm earpiece to hear better. A glance to her left told her Natasha still hadn’t moved. Skye wondered if she would ever have that type of discipline.

A noise sounded through the comm. A gunshot. Quickly followed by the sounds of screams and gasps and … was that groaning?

“What am I hearing?” Coulson’s voice spoke what Skye (and probably everyone else) was wondering.

There was a sigh before Hunter replied, “Agent May shot me.”

“Repeat?” Coulson said.

“May shot me.”

“Man, I wanted to be the one,” Trip said, and Skye couldn’t contain the smile across her face.

“Simmons is here,” May said, and the grin faded from Skye’s face. In the second before May spoke again, Skye’s brain whirred with a whole host of confused thoughts. Jemma was here? But why?

“Repeat,” May said, “Simmons is on site with Hydra. Do we maintain her cover?”

Skye’s mouth dropped open. She thought she maybe gasped out loud.

“Yes,” Coulson said. “Maintain her cover.”

“Your source?” Skye heard Trip say, and she had never felt more grateful. She didn’t think she could talk if she wanted. 

“My source,” Coulson said.

“That's crazy,” Trip said, and Skye had to agree. Her head didn’t want to comprehend. Jemma hadn’t left them after all. Coulson had sent her undercover. _To Hydra_. And didn’t tell any of them. Not her, not Trip, not Fitz.

Fitz. Poor Fitz who was struggling so much, who thought Jemma had abandoned him. Hell, she had thought Jemma had abandoned them. But she hadn’t. At least not really.

Skye shook her head, forcing herself to focus as she heard Steve ask, “A former SHIELD agent?”

“One of ours,” Coulson said.

May came on the comms again. “What about the primary target?” she asked.

“If we can't take him in, we take him out,” Coulson said. “Do you copy?”

“Copy that,” May said.

“Copy,” Hunter said.

“Yes, Sir,” Sam said.

“Copy,” Skye finally managed to say.

Natasha was silent. 

But it didn’t matter because just then the door below them burst open and Donnie Gill, Whitehall and Jemma — their Jemma — was there. Skye shrank back, almost unconsciously.

Whitehall was talking. “Ice everyone inside this ship. No one leaves here alive.”

Donnie Gill headed toward the edge of the ship. Skye felt her heart thud in her chest, and she closed her eyes for a quick second, forcing herself to breath. This was what May had been training her for. This was what she had been working so hard for.

She opened her eyes. Gill had his hand on the railing, and as she watched, the entire deck of the ship started to freeze, turning to bright white ice. On the comms, she heard Hunter groan and Sam curse. 

“It’s frozen,” May said. “We’re trapped.”

“I’m on it,” Steve said.

“Wait,” Skye said. She glanced at Natasha. Again, she hadn’t moved, but this time Skye’s stomach twinged at the sight. Natasha was staring straight ahead but she didn’t look like she was actually seeing anything.

Skye looked back at Donnie Gill. Ice was spreading faster and faster. They were running out of time.

“Natasha!” she whispered. “Agent Romanoff!”

There was nothing. 

“I’m coming,” Steve said instantly.

Skye felt the trigger in her hand. She watched the ice inch closer to where she and Natasha stood. A few more seconds and they were going to be standing on ice — maybe covered in it.

She pulled the trigger.

In slow motion, she watched Donnie Gill topple forward, fall headfirst into the ice he himself had created around the ship. The noise seemed to shake the air. Pieces of ice flew upward, striking the ship.

Beneath her, Jemma turned around. It was like she knew. Her eyes met Skye’s, over the barrel of the gun. Skye nodded. She knew what she had to do.

She fired, the bullet ricocheting off the ground between Jemma and Whitehall. Whitehall grabbed Jemma’s arm, and without another glance at Skye, Jemma followed after him, disappearing behind a curve.

Skye let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding and sank to her knees.

_What had she done?_

•••

It was Steve who pulled her to her feet, his arm tight around her.

“You did great today,” he said as she blinked at him. “Kills are never easy,” he added softly, and suddenly his embrace felt like a hug. “But especially not the first one. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.” He smiled at her. “Can you walk?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He let go of her and nodded to her left. She looked over. The quinjet had been lowered and she could see Sam helping everyone back on. Natasha was nowhere to be seen.

She glanced back at Steve. She wanted to ask him, what was going on with her, but somehow she couldn’t find the words, so instead she just turned and headed toward the quinjet, letting Sam hold her hand as he helped her aboard.

A few minutes later, as she stood in the seating area putting her gun away, Sam walked up to her. He shed his pack, and she noticed he was grinning. “That was fun!” he said. “I could get used to that.” He paused then, looking at her like he was afraid he might have offended her. “Or, well, not _all_ of that.”

She forced herself to smile. Or not really forced. It wasn’t actually that hard when Sam was around. He kind of just made her want to grin and laugh, which was a bit odd and more than a bit disconcerting actually.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s part of the job.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Not always,” he said. “And hey. We don’t know if he’s actually dead. We should check the satellites and … whatever all that stuff is you check. When we get back, I mean. Find out for sure. I’ll help you if you want.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’d like that too.” He grinned again.

The sound of footsteps echoed behind them. The both turned as Coulson, May, Trip, Hunter and Steve came up to them, all of them unloading packs and wiping grimy hands off on their pants. Natasha was behind all of them, her arms wrapped around herself like she was cold, but her head was raised and she stared at them all like she was just daring someone to talk to her.

Everyone else stopped beside Sam and Skye, turning around as though they all could feel Natasha’s glare. Steve looked like he wanted to reach for her, but after a soft waver of his hand, he stuffed it in his pocket.

Natasha never really stopped moving. She just turned her head to somehow focus on all of them at the same time. 

“I’m done,” was all she said, and she kept walking, heading deeper into the plane, not even bothering to shed any equipment.

Skye frowned. She’d always kind of pictured the Black Widow as being like May, but even though May would never be described as warm and loving, she seemed like a den mother in comparison, though Skye had a feeling Natasha would make even an iceberg seem warm, and something about her made Skye almost wish she would leave and not come back. Of course she was perfectly happy to keep both Steve and Sam around. But then she’d had no expectations for Sam, so he was exceeding all of them, and Steve was about as great as Coulson had always said he was. But Natasha … last night had been weird enough, but being next to her in the mission today was practically unnerving.

Everyone was quiet until the sounds of Natasha’s footsteps died away. Skye had really thought Steve (or maybe Coulson. He seemed to be rather fond of her, for some odd reason) would go after her, but no one did. Instead, Coulson focused on Steve and Sam. 

“It was great having you two along.”

“It was fun!” Sam said, his grin reappearing. “I’d be up for doing that again!”

Coulson eyed him, like he was trying to gauge if he were serious. “You know the offer is always there. Hell, you could join the team if you wanted. I’d never refuse you two.”

“Three,” Steve interrupted softly, and this time his eyes did trail down the hall, as if he could still see Natasha there, but she had vanished. Skye wondered where she had even gone to. The plane wasn’t that big.

Steve turned to look at Sam, and for a second it felt like they were having a secret conversation just between the two of them. Finally, Steve turned back to Coulson. “Maybe a week?” he said. “And then we’ll re-evaluate?”

“I’m more than happy with that,” Coulson said.

“Me too,” Trip said.

“Me too,” Skye said.

Hunter shrugged. “Why the hell not?” and everyone laughed.

Hours later, not even two minutes after they landed, Eric Koenig — who Skye hadn’t even realized was _around_. She’d thought he was off doing whatever it was he did — was pushing his way through everyone to climb on board the quinjet, almost like someone had summoned him just by saying the magic words. 

“Fine,” he said, almost glaring at both Steve and Sam, even though no one had said anything. “You can stay. But you’re going to need lanyards then.” 

Before anyone could even ask him how the hell he knew they were staying, Koenig had turned around and started back down the ramp, but halfway down he paused, like he remembered something. He turned back to them. “And someone tell that redhead she needs one too!”


	5. Chapter 5

**[STEVE]**

Saying he was worried about Natasha was pretty much the understatement of the year. Natasha, who probably needed someone worrying about her least of anyone he knew. Natasha, who was so strong and so independent and so, so protective of herself. Natasha, who could probably kill someone with her pinkie if she really needed to and who could charm or manipulate her way out of any situation. Natasha, who had figured out Coulson was alive and had gotten Maria to tell them where he was and who had then managed to defy a million security measures to get inside without anyone knowing she was there before she wanted them to know she was there. That was the Natasha he was worried about now.

Actually, anxiety-ridden would be a better word.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong, and he had no possible idea what it was or what it could be. He spent the entire night after they got back from the cargo ship mission going over every moment since she had showed up at Sam’s apartment less than a week ago. 

There hadn’t been any visible signs that something was wrong. She had been more agitated than normal, which was something in itself. Natasha was normally completely cool and composed, and she hadn’t been, but they had also gotten a lot closer during their run from Hydra and he had just figured she was more comfortable with him now. She was also upset about Coulson being alive, and when she had confessed that first night why she needed to find him so much, he’d believed her. He still did. He knew she could fake anything, manipulate anyone, but he did know her — as much as one who was not Clint Barton could possibly know her — and he believed that night had been real. Sure, he’d thought something else was going on (and now he was particularly sure there was) but he was sure what she told him was real.

Her confession also explained her determination over the next few days to track Coulson down. She had been so intent on finding him, she’d barely slept, but that also wasn’t anything unusual. Steve had been on enough missions with her to know that was how she acted when she had a job to complete and an objective to fulfill. Nothing got in her way, not sleep, not food either. There were countless times on missions he’d had to shove a sandwich into her hand and command her to eat it. Each time she would glare at him, bristling that she could take care of herself and why couldn’t he mind his own fucking business, but a couple hours later, the sandwich would be gone and that was enough for him.

So, no, that hadn’t been weird that she hadn’t wanted to sleep. And she had seemed okay on their trip to New York. She’d — thankfully — slept on the way there, and she’d been perfectly in control once they arrived. She was quiet on the way back, but Natasha was often quiet when there was a mission ahead. She didn’t give much away ever, and he hadn’t really expected her to then.

Even the morning they left for The Playground she’d seemed fine. They had driven until they were about ten miles out, and then they’d walked. He could have run that easily, and Sam could have run or flown, but they’d both let Natasha set the pace and then stayed behind her the whole time. There had been nothing at all to indicate she wasn’t perfectly fine, not even a slight stumble or extra-hard panting.

They’d arrived in a bit less than two hours, emerging from the trees to see the structure that wouldn’t be worth a second glance normally.

Sam had frowned. “Do we just walk up and knock on … is there a door?”

Natasha had shot him a look. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she had said. “You both stay here. I’ll be back.”

“What are you going to do?” Sam had asked. Natasha had just raised a brow, and Steve had laughed.

“We don’t want to know,” he had said, and she had smiled at them, before turning around and disappearing into a patch of trees to their right.

It was the last he’d seen of her until they’d tracked her down that night, and the start of the feeling that something wasn’t right. Because she hadn’t come back. Coulson had come instead. But that hadn’t concerned Steve then. She’d obviously found Coulson, confronted him maybe, and he figured she needed some time to herself. But then hours had passed and she wasn’t anywhere to be seen and no one had talked to her at all. They’d searched for leads on Bucky, they’d talked to Coulson’s team members, they’d all sat in the kitchen area and ate dinner together, but Natasha hadn’t come back. Until finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

It had been after ten o’clock and Sam and Skye had been chatting about all the equipment Skye was using to do her job, but all Steve could do was worry about Natasha and wonder what had happened between her and Coulson that she wouldn’t come back after all these hours. Coulson hadn’t seem particularly bothered the times Steve had seen him, and from what he knew of him in those few hours he’d known him two years ago and from some of the stories Skye told them while they worked, he wouldn’t just pretend everything had been fine if something had really happened. He’d told Steve that Nat was furious, but Natasha never let anger crowd her judgment that much.

“We need to find Nat,” he’d finally said to Sam and Skye, causing both of them to look up. “Something’s not right.”

He had expected both of them to disagree, or maybe argue that she would show up when she wanted to, but both of them had instantly jumped to their feet. “Where do you want to start?” Sam had said.

They had searched everywhere. The garage with the cars and the quinjets. The labs, the storage rooms, the security rooms. The bedrooms and bathrooms and kitchen. They’d even checked _in_ the quinjets, but if she was hiding, she was doing a darn good job of it. And by that point Steve had been convinced she wasn’t hiding. Natasha sometimes did things he did not at all agree with, but she would never purposely hide from them if she knew they were worried about her. And she hadn’t been picking up her phone either.

They had gone to Coulson out of desperation, and by that time, the worry had turned into gnawing terror. He _knew_ she wouldn’t have just left and he knew she wasn’t hiding, which meant something was wrong. She was hurt, or sick, or something worse he didn’t want to think about.

But when they found her, it was almost worse than he’d imagined. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to get the image of her, wrapped around herself in a tree, trembling from head to toe, out of his head. It was the most unlike her thing he had ever seen, and worse was she wouldn’t tell them what was wrong. He wasn’t sure if she really didn’t remember or she was just covering something up. 

He’d stayed with her after Skye had shown them to the rooms Coulson had said they could stay in. There were all in a row, his, Sam’s and hers, but he waited till everyone had exited so that he was left alone with her. She had been rifling through the small backpacks they had each brought with them, to find something to change into, when she realized he was still standing there. 

“What are you doing?” she’d asked, and her voice was sharp. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m worried about you,” he said. It was the absolute worst thing he could have said. 

Anger flashed on her face. “I’m fine,” she practically snarled. “Get out.”

“Natasha, I saw you!”

“I said get out. We are not talking about this.”

“Natasha ….”

“Get. Out.” The words were practically forced out of her throat, but he didn’t move. He just looked at her. She looked pale to him, her hair slightly tangled around her head. She was glaring at him, pure hatred across her face, but there was something else in her eyes. Deep within them. He thought she looked scared.

He sighed. “I just want you to be okay,” he said.

“I’m fine.” The words were still clipped, and it was clear she wasn’t going to say anything else. She crossed her arms across her chest, and he turned around to leave. He had so much more he wanted to say, but he was worried she really would leave them, so he left her alone.

He barely slept that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured her huddled in those branches, tiny and shaking, and every time he opened his eyes, he worried she’d run. He thought about actually sitting outside her door to make sure she didn’t escape, but he realized that was stupid. If he thought Natasha actually needed a door to escape if she wanted to, then he didn’t know her at all.

She had still been there in the morning, though, and she’d actually opened the door when he knocked on it after a breakfast he could barely eat. He’d handed her a muffin and smiled at her in a way that he’d hoped she’d take as apologetic.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten since we got here.”

She set it down on the small table beside the bed. 

“Thanks,” she said.

He’d been tempted to ask her about the night before, but he knew it would only make her upset. So he’d gone a different direction.

“We’re working on tracking down leads on Bucky. You interested in helping?”

She’d shrugged. “Maybe later.”

“Nat,” he started, but the words died on his lips. He didn’t know what he had wanted to tell her — that he was worried about her, that other people were worried about her, that they had come here so she could see Coulson and hiding from him wasn’t going to help matters, that maybe it might be nice of her to at least meet everyone? But he didn’t say anything. Instead all he did was nod.

“Come find us if you want us,” he’d told her. “You probably already know where.”

She hadn’t. Of course not. But when he’d gone to find her to tell her about the mission to stop Hydra from getting Donnie Gill, he’d found her still in her room, lying on the bed, and when he’d told her everyone was heading out in fifteen minutes, she’d nodded at him and said, “Okay.” And she had shown up. He hadn’t really expected her to, but she climbed into the quinjet along with everyone else.

She’d been mostly silent for the entire duration of the trip, and he knew the way she was freezing people out was not winning her any friends, but then Natasha had never needed friends. But he couldn’t help but worry that there was just something she wasn’t telling them.

It was Skye who had pulled him aside on the trip home, who grabbed his arm and led him to a corner where no one could overhear them and told him that Natasha had seemed to freeze during the mission. 

“It was eerie,” she said. “I know she’s really good at what she does and being still is part of it … but _she didn’t move at all._ I’m not even sure she blinked. And she definitely did not shoot Gill even though I _know_ shooting means nothing to her.”

Steve had wanted to say it didn’t mean _nothing_ to her, but that wasn’t the point, so instead he’d wiped a hand across his head. “Thanks,” he said. “For telling me.”

“She’s not going to go crazy, right?” Skye said. “Kill us all.”

Steve frowned at her. “Just asking,” she said. She patted him on the arm. “Though I don’t know why I’m worried. You could stop her.”

She’d walked away then, and he’d almost sprinted down the jet to find Natasha, but he didn’t. Instead he’d walked back to his seat and let everything filter one more time through his head. There was something so seriously wrong — he knew it, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. But when Coulson asked them — probably only half-serious — if they wanted to stay, he’d known that second he’d had to say yes. Because if he and Sam stayed, Natasha would stay. Unhappily maybe, but he was sure she would stay. And he needed to be near her, to figure this out, to understand what was happening, to protect her if need be.

So he’d agreed.

But he still didn’t know how to help Nat.

•••

She was the one who found him. He was nursing a cup of coffee in the kitchen, trying to process everything that was happening but also giving Sam and Skye some time to themselves. He saw the way they kept looking at each other, and no one was oblivious enough to miss the horrible flirting they were doing. But he didn’t mind. Sam was a good guy and had become one of his best friends. He deserved a little fun. Or something more.

As was par for the course, he didn’t hear her come in. Just suddenly she was there, standing in front of him when he glanced up, her arms folded across her chest. It was the first time he had seen her out of her room and in a public space, apart from the Quinjet and the tree.

“You should have asked me.” He didn’t miss the note of hurt in her voice or the hint of betrayal in her eyes. He knew very well she was letting him see both of those things on purpose, but they did what he suspected she wanted. It went straight to his gut in a heavy burst of guilt.

“I know,” he said, because he did. She was right. He had done it to protect her, but that didn’t make it fair. “You don’t have to stay.”

Her expression didn’t change. “I’m not going to leave without you.”

_Thank goodness for that._ A wave of relief passed through him, but he kept it off his face. She kept going. “It wasn’t your decision to make. We’re supposed to be a team.”

This time his brow furrowed. “Are we really?” he asked, a little too quickly. She blinked. “You disappear for four months without a word and suddenly we’re still a team?”

He watched as she schooled her features into a completely blank expression. “This was my mission,” she said. “You came here with me.”

“This wasn’t a mission. It was a favor. And there’s something you’re not telling us.”

“There isn’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care.”

They stared at each other for a minute, his blue eyes meeting her green ones. Neither one of them moved, or dared to breath. 

“You did this on purpose,” she finally said. 

He kept his voice even. If she could play games, he could too. “We want to find Bucky. They have more resources than we do. You said so yourself.”

“That’s not why we’re staying.”

“That’s why _we’re_ staying.”

She shook her head. “You’re still a terrible liar, Rogers,” she said, and then she turned around and left without another word.

•••

Natasha didn’t show up to dinner that night. Nor did she show up anywhere else. Steve tried to play it off every time someone asked about her, like he wasn’t worried, like he was sure she was fine, but the guilt and the doubt and the anxiety swirled inside him like a hurricane. It wasn’t like he and Natasha had that type of relationship where she came to him to confide in him — he didn’t actually think she had ever had that type of relationship with anyone — but he wasn’t used to one of his teammates, his partners, not trusting him enough to share, and he knew this was something more than her having her own objective. This was something that was hurting her and causing her pain, and he was more worried about her than he thought he might even have a right to be.

He waited till almost everyone else disappeared, to go back to their missions or to relax in their rooms or with each other. He could hear Hunter grumbling about his ex-wife as he and Mack walked down the hall, and he could hear Sam’s laugh as he and Skye went back to work on the newest mission Coulson had given her.

There wasn’t a huge variety of food choices — Steve was used to that from all the ops he’d spent the past two years mostly working on — but he could at least make her a sandwich, give her something to eat while he figured out a way to convince her that locking herself away from everyone wasn’t the answer to whatever it was she was worried about.

He didn’t realize May had come back in until she was standing beside him. “You’re worried about her,” she said simply, softly.

He glanced up from spreading mustard on to a roll — when had he started to learn Natasha’s preferences in sandwich condiments? — to study her face. She was a bit like Natasha, in that she gave nothing away, but the way she was watching him …

“So are you,” he said, as he put down one half of the roll and picked up the other.

“She’s angry at me,” May said. “At Phil too. But Nat doesn’t hold grudges. At least not the Nat I know. She confronts people, she says what she needs to, then she moves on. She doesn’t hide.”

Steve thought about that as he started to place a few slices of turkey on to the bread. He knew she was right, in a sense. Natasha didn’t hold grudges. She had been trained not to take anything personally, and even when something stung, she accepted it and didn’t react — he saw that up close the day they’d realized Fury was still alive. But at the same time, he knew this situation was different. It was one more lie, one more betrayal, on top of a host of other lies, other betrayals. Everyone had their breaking point. Why shouldn’t she have one too?

“She’s been through a lot,” he said quietly.

“I know,” May answered. “But I think we both know none of you would be still be here if you thought this was just about her being upset.”

Steve reached for the head of lettuce and glanced at May again. “And I think we both know that Nat’s not going to talk if she doesn’t have to.”

“Maybe you should make sure she has to.”

His eyes narrowed. “And how would you recommend I do that?”

May shook her head. “I haven’t seen her in two years. You know her better now than I do.”

Steve couldn’t help the soft snort that left his mouth. “Yeah,” he said, “if only that were true.”

•••

She let him in. Not by actually getting up and letting him in, but she didn’t tell him no when he knocked and when he opened the door to peek in, she only stared back at him. She was lying on the bed that was in the middle of the room, curled on her side, her hand tucked under her chin, and she looked so small, so uncharacteristically vulnerable, that he had an urge to swoop her up and hold her against him and just _protect her_ from whatever it was that was making her look like that.

He walked inside and closed the door behind him, holding out the sandwich and noting the muffin from this morning was still where she had put it down when he’d given it to her hours ago. “I brought you a sandwich. You need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Humor me.”

She scowled at him as he pushed the sandwich closer to her, but when she realized he wasn’t backing down, she reached out to take it, rolling over on to her back and sitting up against the headboard. He glanced at the one chair in the room and then the spot on the bed beside her.

“Scoot over,” he told her, plopping down beside her without waiting for her to answer. Her scowl deepened, but she did as he asked.

He waited until she had actually taken a bite of the sandwich, wrinkling her nose as she did so, which he tried to not be offended by, before talking. He kept his voice low and even and focused directly on her. 

“I’m not going to try and make you talk to me,” he started, quickly adding, “because I know that’s a losing proposition, but if you do want to tell me, whatever it is, no judgments. Okay?”

She turned her head to meet his eyes, chewing slowly, deliberately. “I’m fine, Steve,” she said.

His lip quirked up at that. “Now who’s the bad liar?”

She didn’t answer. He took a deep breath. “You’d tell me,” he said quietly, “if it was something serious, right? Something I should be worried about? Something that might affect other people?”

She was still watching him. He saw her tilt her head a little to the side, barely a millimeter, but he noticed. Her eyes roamed over his face, like she was searching for something, a truth only she could see. Finally she nodded, just slightly, but enough. “Yes,” she said. “I’d tell you.”

It was his turn to study her, to look into her eyes, now wide and soft, her mouth just slightly open. She looked relaxed. He let out a puff of air.

“Okay,” he said. He leaned back against the headboard and let his eyes close, a wave of fatigue hitting him all at once. He heard her grunt.

“You have a room,” she said.

“I know,” he muttered, but he didn’t move. He hadn’t realized how tired he was, how much energy he had invested in being worried about her. But sitting here, next to her, he felt better. He still was never sure how well he really knew her, but he did trust her. And he trusted her now, about this.

He heard her sigh, an exaggerated sound, and half expected a foot to kick him in the gut or a hand to shove him off the bed, but none ever came. He smiled and kept his eyes close, letting himself drift away.

•••

He dreamed he was drowning. Something was holding him down, pushing him deeper and deeper. He tried to open his mouth, to yell out, to get a breath, but something was around his neck, squeezing, hard, harder, not letting up …

His eyes flew open. He gasped but something was preventing the air from getting in. Hands. Incredibly strong hands.

He blinked in the dark room. She was on top of him, her hands firmly around his neck, squeezing.

“Nat.” He tried to say her name, but the sound wouldn’t come. He couldn’t see her face in the dark, couldn’t see her eyes. Even in the dark room, he knew his vision was beginning to go. He was feeling lightheaded.

There was only one choice. 

_One choice_ , he told himself, and his hands found her hips. Then, with as much force as he could muster, he threw them both off the bed, sending them crashing into the wall, her first.

He didn’t think he would ever forget the sound of her head smacking against the wood. Her hands loosened, her body going limp. 

He choked on the air, coughed as he inhaled, feeling the oxygen come back into his brain, his sight returning to normal. He fumbled for the lamp, switched it on. 

She wasn’t moving, but she wasn’t unconscious. Her eyes were open, her pupils almost swimming in her head. He almost would have thought she was dazed, but it was more than that. She looked … blank. And not the neutral expression she usually wore when she didn’t want anyone to know what she was thinking. This was different.

He pulled himself to his knees, tugged her body into his arms, lifting her up and placing her back down on the bed. His fingers roamed the back of her head, but although he found the beginnings of a large bump, there wasn’t blood.

He exhaled. 

He moved his hand to her cheek, lightly stroked his index finger along the line of her jaw. Her skin felt warm, warmer than he remembered her usually being (not that he touched her very much, but in those brief moments when he put a hand on her arm or brushed her shoulder with his). He glanced down at the rest of her, at her black leggings and her oversized t-shirt and he thought maybe she was just warm from being next to him all night. He had no idea what time it was.

He returned his attention back to her face. Her eyes were still blank, and she hadn’t moved. 

“Natasha,” he whispered, and his voice creaked a little. He coughed, realized his throat hurt a little, and tried again. “Natasha.”

It took a while, calling her name, running a finger over her cheek, down her arm, over her lips. Finally she started, her whole body jerking, eyes blinking.

For a second she stared at him and he saw fear — real true fear — but then she blinked again and it was gone and he didn’t have time to wonder if it had really been there because she was pushing by him and scrambling to her feet. 

“Natasha,” he said softly.

She had her back to him, but he could see how her shoulders were tensed, her hands curling into fists. 

“I think we should have someone look at your head,” he said quietly. “I hit you pretty hard.”

She whirled around. “No!”

She stared at him, eyes wide, hands now fully clenched. She seemed to realize what she was doing, and a second later, she had transformed again — relaxed, calm, face serene.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“You tried to kill me in your sleep.”

Her eyes widened a touch but that was her only reaction. “I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was even, no inflection of emotion. “Nightmare.”

He knew she was lying. “Coulson needs to know,” he said.

She shot toward him, her right hand grasping at his cotton tank top. He hadn’t expected that, nor the flash of terror in her eyes.

“Don’t,” she said, “Please,” and he could see a sincerity in her eyes that wasn’t often there, but he recognized it. It was the same look she had when they had sat in Sam’s bedroom so many months ago and she told him she didn’t know whose lies she had been telling.

“Please don’t,” she repeated, and this time she didn’t try to lie that she was fine, she just looked at him, pleading with her eyes.

He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew the worry of earlier today was back full force. The other night when they found her outside. Now the nightmare that wasn’t. But he was also smart enough to recognize that she wasn’t going to tell him — at least not yet — and forcing her hand was never going to work. He couldn’t risk her deciding staying wasn’t worth the effort and leaving without them.

But he could use this to his advantage. Being her partner for two years had taught him a few things after all.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “I won’t tell Coulson if you pretend you aren’t actually a recluse and try and make friends.”

He saw her think about that. “You don’t know what you’re asking, Steve,” she finally said. 

He stared at her. “I think I’m asking you to prove to me that you’re really fine,” he replied. “You keep telling us you are, but you are acting anything but fine.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why?” he said, and he heard the note of anger creep into his voice even before he realized he was angry. “You said you wanted to find Coulson. You said you wanted to talk to him. You told Coulson you wanted us to be able to search for Bucky. You think anything is going to fix itself if you hide away from everyone? This isn’t even you. I’ve never known you to hide from anything.”

Her tongue darted out, licked the edge of her lips. She looked like she wanted to argue. Instead her shoulders slumped slightly.

“You promise you won’t tell anyone?” she said. “If I do what you want. You promise you won’t tell?”

“Scout’s honor.”

She huffed at that, but “Fine,” was all she said.

•••

He managed to convince her to go back to sleep. It wasn’t easy. She was tense and closed off, and she looked like she wanted to bolt — or maybe she wanted him to bolt. She probably did. But Steve considered it a testament to how exhausted she must actually have been that she didn’t put up much more than a half-hearted fight before flopping down on the bed with an exaggerated scowl. 

He lay down beside her and closed his eyes. He knew she would never willingly fall asleep if she thought he was just going to stare at her the whole time, but he had no intention of sleeping. Not that he could anyway. His brain seemed to be going a hundred miles an hour. His fingers drifted to his neck, felt around for the marks he knew were already fading. 

Two years as her partner, including many nights spent together when they were on assignment, some of those nights literally spent together, most of the time one sleeping while the other kept watch, and never in any of that time had he witnessed anything like he just had.

He knew she did have nightmares — hell, he did too — but what had just happened … he wasn’t sure he believed it was just a nightmare. The problem was he didn’t know _what_ it was, and he had stupidly promised her he wouldn’t mention it to anyone.

He glanced over at her. She was asleep, but it was far from peaceful. Her one hand was clenched into a fist around the sheets, and her eyebrows were furrowed, her breathing slightly faster than normal.

Steve sighed. Whatever was wrong he had a horrible feeling it was scaring her, too. And he had no idea what to do about it.

•••

She woke not long after the sun starting rising, ignoring him as she got up and gathered what she needed for a shower. He waited for her to come back before walking to breakfast.

“Are you going to babysit me the whole day?” she asked lowly as they approached the eating area.

He looked over at her. She was staring straight ahead, avoiding his eyes. “I’m worried about you,” he said quietly.

“Well, don’t be,” she snapped. 

They entered the kitchen area together. It was already crowded. Sam and Skye sat together at one table, May sat at another reading something on a tablet, Mack and Hunter were at a third. All eyes turned to them — or, rather, to Natasha — as they entered, conversations stopping and mouths dropping open slightly.

She ignored all of them, heading straight for a table in the furthest corner, not even bothering to get food first. Steve glowered at her back and fought the urge to actually snap at her for ignoring what he’d told her to do. But this wasn’t a mission and he wasn’t in charge here, and the only thing he had over her was blackmail, not authority. And for as far as he was willing to go to use that to get her to leave her room, he wasn’t actually comfortable using it to force her to do anything more.

As he grabbed himself a helping of eggs and sausage, and he heard the room slowly return to the level of conversation it was at when they entered, he realized that was probably what she was counting on, and he had to stifle another urge to punch a wall. 

Instead he calmly walked over to Sam and Skye and dropped into a chair beside them.

Sam raised a brow at him, then glanced not too subtly over at Natasha. “Rough night?” he asked. 

“Something like that,” Steve muttered.

“You want to talk about it?” Another glance over at Natasha, who had her back turned to all of them, a very pointed sign that she wanted to be left alone. 

Yes, he wanted to talk about it. With Sam. But mostly with Nat. He wanted to pull her aside and remind her what she had just promised him, only a few hours ago. He wanted to grab her arm and usher her over to sit next to him and Sam and Skye. But most of all, he wanted her to talk to him, to tell him what was really going on. This wasn’t about not wanting to be friends or feeling betrayed by Coulson. This was something deeper she wasn’t telling him, and his entire body felt frayed to the edges with worry.

He wanted to tell that to Sam, too, to take him aside and whisper to him everything that Natasha said, tell him about what she had done in her sleep, but he had promised her he wouldn’t tell, and even if she wasn’t technically keeping up her end of the bargain, he couldn’t betray her in that way. He wouldn’t betray her in that way.

But he wasn’t going to lie to Sam either.

“I do,” he said, picking up his fork to begin eating. “But I can’t. Not yet.”

Sam seemed to understand what he was saying. He glanced one more time over at Natasha. “Well, when you can,” he said slowly, “you know I’ve got your back.” A slight pause. “And hers too. Even if she is trying to win the antisocial SHIELD agent of the year award.”

Skye scoffed. “She’s doing a good job,” she grumbled. Then she sighed. “Sorry. I know she’s your friend. I just expected Black Widow to be … I don’t know …. Not like this.”

“Yes,” Steve said softly. “I expected that too.”

Skye’s expression softened a little at that. And then she smiled. “So why don’t you tell me what it’s like being Captain America,” she said.

•••

Training was after breakfast. May had been working with Skye for the past few months, teaching her martial arts and how to fight, how to properly use a gun, how to get the upper hand with all her opponents. 

“I have a long way to go,” Skye had said sheepishly, when May stopped by to tell her she had ten minutes before she needed to have her ass in the gym, “but I’m learning.”

“She is,” May said, then she gestured at Steve and Sam. “You guys want to come too? It’d be good to change it up a little. She can’t always fight me.”

Skye’s eyes widened at that, and a grin broke out on her face. “Yes, you should!” she said.

“I’m game.” Sam looked at Steve. “You in?”

There was no way he was going to say no. Punching bags and other people in practice was better than punching a hole in the wall. 

He pointed over to where Natasha was still ignoring everyone. “Nat will come too,” he said, a little too loudly. “If anyone should teach Skye skills, it’s her.”

Steve was pretty sure no one missed the glare Natasha sent his way as she finally turned around, but when they all got up to head out, she followed along behind them.

•••

It was almost normal, at least for the first while. Steve and Sam had been searching for Bucky for so long, he couldn’t really even remember the last time they had sparred just for fun or practice. A lot of things had changed after SHIELD fell, and training just for the sake of training was one of them. 

Sure, he and Sam went jogging, and sometimes they went to the gym to work out, but it wasn’t the same. Before SHIELD fell, before he knew Bucky was alive, before Natasha was anything to him except an occasional partner, he would sometimes find her in the gym. He could sit for hours and watch her flip and tumble, but almost always, she would turn to him with that smirk of hers and ask him if he wanted to go a round. 

He never said no. He was strong but she was fast and stealthy, and they usually made a good match. They could go for hours, neither of them really coming out ahead of the other, only stopping when he’d notice Natasha was panting more than normal. She was human after all.

But the last time he had sparred with her was even longer than the last time he and Sam had trained together, and it felt nice — it felt almost _normal_ — to do it again.

The jabbed at each other, Steve dodging, Natasha feinting. He let her jump onto his back, then scramble upward, her thighs around his neck, before he dropped them both to the ground backward, hard, jarring her loose. She grunted under him, then slipped out of his grip, suddenly straddling his chest, her hands going for his neck. He grabbed her wrists, and she twisted around to kick him in the side.

This time he grunted, and he almost thought he saw her smile, as her widow bites landed on his neck, a sign that this round went to her.

Beside them, Skye and Sam were sparring with each other, but Steve noticed their sparring look a whole lot less like fighting and a little more like flirting, the way they were staring at each other and circling each other like dogs looking for a mate.

May seemed to think the same thing as she was watching them both with her hands across her chest, her expression stern, if maybe a little amused.

“Okay, okay,” she finally called out. “That is enough of that. Natasha?”

Natasha looked up from where she was still sitting on top of Steve, not willing to concede her victory yet.

“You want to show them how it’s done?”

Natasha shrugged. “Why not?”

She finally stood up, letting Steve escape from underneath her. Sam offered Skye a hand, and they walked over to Steve to watch the two women fight.

“Now this,” Skye said, “is going to be fun.”

The two women were like cats. They circled each other, gracefully and skillfully. Every time one would dodge, the other would feint. Every jab by one was met with a block by the other. It was almost like art. Steve felt himself staring, his mouth open slightly, as he watched them almost dance around the other.

He had always thought Natasha was the most skilled fighter he’d ever seen. The things she could do with her body always amazed him, but watching her together with May, he could see slight similarities and for a moment he saw a young girl, barely more than a teenager, being trained by someone who would eventually become one of her first real friends.

May, as was probably fitting, struck the first real blow. Her fist hit Natasha hard in the ribs, and Natasha stumbled backward. But then Natasha was leaping, and May was pinned to the mat before she could completely get out of the way.

It went on from there, strikes getting harder, mercy getting less. Steve looked to the side. Both Sam and Skye were staring wide-eyed, amazement all over their faces. 

Both May and Natasha were breathing harder than they had been when they started, but they both looked happy.

And then May hit her again. Not nearly as hard as some of her earlier punches had been, but May’s closed fist hit Natasha in the stomach, and Nat went down, falling to her knees before crumpling to the side.

It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Everyone froze, May in mid-action.

“Natasha!” Steve cried, but then Natasha was leaping back to her feet. Steve took a breath of relief, then glanced at her face. And froze.

Natasha’s eyes. Gone were the light and the laughter. Her eyes were blank, vacant. 

A chill ran over Steve. Horror suddenly clung to him. He could see it in her eyes, but he could also see it in her body. The tension, the defensive posture, something that could almost be called fear.

It was almost like she didn’t even know who May was.

_Damn it._

He opened his mouth to warn May, but it was too late. Natasha attacked. 

She moved like a wild beast. She leapt at May, her entire body leaving the ground, her hands latching around the other woman’s neck as she flew through the air and squeezed. They tumbled to the ground, May swinging at Natasha, hitting her square in the jaw, but Natasha didn’t seem fazed in the least.

Steve stared in horror at the two of them, as May struggled beneath Natasha. Her head turned to the side, and Steve caught her eye, saw something in her expression. Something that looked like comprehension.

“Steve!” May barely managed. Natasha looked like she was squeezing harder. “A little help here!”

He sprang into action, training taking over for emotions and fear. He raced toward the two women, grabbed Natasha around the waist and pulled as hard as she could. She fought desperately to keep hold of May, but Steve was far stronger than her, even now. Her fingers came loose, and he stumbled backward, Natasha flailing in his arms, trying to get away from him. Her arms shot up over her head, and he felt her fingers latch around his throat and start to squeeze. He choked. Then something was being shoved into his hand.

He looked to the right, into Sam’s eyes. He nodded at Steve. Steve decided now was not the time to ask him where he had gotten it.

Natasha’s hands were closing tighter around his neck. He knew without a doubt she wasn’t planning to let go. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, so low she never would have heard him even if she had been listening, and then he pressed the icer against her side. Instantly, she spasmed in his arms, her body jerking, and then after what seemed like a lifetime but wasn’t even seconds, her hands let go of his neck and she fell limp against him, his arm around her center the only thing keeping her from falling.

“What in the hell was that?”

Steve, Sam and May all turned. Skye was staring at them, her eyes wide, mouth agape. She looked as horrified as Steve felt.

May spoke first. “Go get Coulson,” she said.

Skye turned to her. “But …”

“Get Coulson now,” May repeated. 

This time Skye nodded. “Got it.” And she turned around and headed down the hall.

May turned back to Steve. He still hadn’t moved. Natasha was still hanging limply in his arms. He saw May glance down at her before she looked back at Steve.

“She didn’t mean--” he started.

“I know,” she said. “I know.”

Very carefully, Steve lowered Natasha to the ground. May moved closer to crouch down beside her, her fingers quickly feeling for her pulse. 

“A little erratic,” she said, “but not concerning.”

“Only concerning that I think she just tried to kill you,” Sam muttered from behind them.

“That wasn’t her,” May said softly. “Whatever that was, it wasn’t her.”

Steve bent down next to May. He brushed his fingers over the damp curls on Natasha's head. He frowned. 

"She feel warm to you?" he asked May. 

She reached up to where Steve's fingers still were and pressed the back of her hand to Natasha's head. Then she quickly moved her hands down to push Natasha’s black tank top up a few inches, enough that Steve could see the shiny white scar on Natasha's belly. May placed her hand on Natasha's stomach and nodded at Steve. 

"Yeah, she does."

Behind them, Sam scoffed. "You're saying the flu turned her into a crazy person?"

The sound of footsteps kept Steve from having to answer. Coulson bent down beside Steve and May, and like May earlier, pressed his fingers against Natasha's neck, feeling for her pulse. In the corner of his eye, Steve saw Skye go to stand beside Sam. 

Coulson's question was directed at Steve. "Anything like this ever happen before?"

For a moment, he hesitated. Natasha’s pleading eyes. _Please don’t tell._ The fear written across her face.

“Last night,” he finally said. “She said it was a nightmare.”

Coulson nodded, like he was thinking. “Let’s get her to medical,” he said. He turned to look at Skye and Sam. “We’ll meet you in my office. Skye, pull up everything you can find about known triggers in KGB operatives. See if anything sounds familiar.”

“Wait,” Sam interrupted. “Triggers?” Steve saw him eye Natasha, still unconscious on the floor, with a suspicious look.

“The Red Room wasn’t nice,” May muttered, as Steve slipped his arms under Natasha, lifted her up. He tried not to think about how small she felt, tucked against his chest. He also tried not to think about the last time he’d carried her like this. That night, when Zola and SHIELD had tried to kill them, had changed everything. In more ways than one.

•••

Eric Koenig was waiting for them in medical — how he had known, Steve wasn’t sure — his arms crossed and disapproval written prominently across his face. 

“This is why we shouldn’t given lanyards to trained assassins!” he grumbled at Coulson as Steve laid Natasha down on the small white bed. Before he had even finished adjusting her, he realized Koenig had snapped one end of a pair of handcuffs to her wrist and the other to the metal bar of the bed.

“Hey!” he snapped, anger suddenly filling him.

Koenig wasn’t fazed. “I am not letting a killer walk the halls of this base,” he said, as if it were that simple.

“She’s not a killer.”

“She tried to kill May.”

“That was …” Steve faltered. “She’s not a killer.”

“She’s a trained assassin.” Koenig crossed his arms again.

“She’s an Avenger,” Coulson said calmly, but Steve noticed he didn’t tell Koenig to unlock the handcuffs. Steve’s hands tightened into fists.

“Who is capable of killing everyone in here,” Koenig said. “You think I’m just going to let her walk around unsupervised?”

“Yes,” Steve wanted to say, but it was Coulson who answered.

“If we’re that worried, we can track her,” he said.

Steve frowned. “Track her?” he asked. “Like a GPS?” But before anyone could answer, he realized what Coulson meant, and he stared at him, almost horrified. “Like put a tracker _in_ her?”

“It’s just for caution,” Coulson said. “We’ve done it before?”

“ _What?_ Is this some sort of horrid SHIELD protocal?” A million thoughts ran through his head. “Did you do that to _me_?”

“No.” Coulson shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Of course not?”

Coulson sighed. “She was a former KGB assassin who SHIELD wanted to kill. She wasn’t exactly trustworthy.”

Steve subconsciously moved closer to the bed, and to Natasha, as if to protect her. “She was a teenage girl who never had a choice.” He’d read some of her files, at least what they had allowed him to, when she became his partner for the first time. He did know some things.

“A teenage girl who had killed hundreds of people,” Coulson corrected. “We didn’t know her then. No one did.”

“But you know her now.”

“Steve.” Coulson’s eyes flickered to Natasha. “It’s better for her if we know where she is. If she’s being triggered by something, then she’s not controlling it. Do you think she wants that?”

“Maybe we should let her answer that when she wakes up.”

“We will.” Coulson looked at Koenig. “Put in the tracker but don’t touch her otherwise. And uncuff her. It’s not going to stop her anyway. And if she starts to wake up, call us.” He turned back to May and Steve. “Let’s go see if Skye found anything.”

Steve glanced down at Natasha. He didn’t want to leave her, felt a strange urge to hold her hand and protect her, but maybe if they knew what was wrong with her …

Reluctantly, he turned away and followed Coulson down the hall, his heart hurting more with every step of the way.

•••

Skye was sitting on Coulson’s desk, a tablet in her hand, Sam standing next to her. Skye was typing away, but both of them looked glum.

“What did you find?” Coulson asked as he, Steve and May entered the room. Skye just shook her head.

“Nothing that explains this,” she said. “I found some mentions of brainwashing and triggering by use of code phrases or words, but none of us said anything. She was fine — or maybe not fine, but she was one thing one second and then she just attacked. I haven’t found anything that would just explain something like this happening out of nowhere.”

“Keep looking,” Coulson said. “Maybe there’s something we’re missing.”

“I don’t know,” May said. “Fury made Natasha undergo a lot of psychological evaluations back when she first joined SHIELD. Wouldn’t they have found all her triggers, if she had them?”

“She’s a good liar,” Sam piped up.

This time Steve shook his head. “No. If she was being triggered, though, she wouldn’t have been conscious of it. So she couldn’t have covered it up.”

“But you said she was conscious of the one that happened last night?” Coulson asked. 

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. It still felt like a betrayal to think about telling them what happened, but it felt even more like a betrayal not to. He needed to help her. He needed to help fix this. Even if she wouldn’t want him to.

He gave in, told them what happened, how he woke up to her choking him, how the only way he could get her to stop was to slam them both into the wall.

“She asked me not to tell,” he said. “She said it was a nightmare, but I knew she was lying. But we didn’t talk details. I don’t know how much she actually was aware of or how much she remembers.”

“If this has been happening, though,” Sam spoke up again. He sounded thoughtful. “If she knew something was happening, it would explain a lot. Like why she’s been so weird since we got here.”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “If something were really wrong, she would have told us.”

“Would she?” It was Coulson who asked.

“You think she wouldn’t?” Skye said. She was still typing stuff on to the tablet in her hands, still searching for information.

“I think,” Coulson said slowly, “that Natasha is very protective of what she tells people. And the last thing she wants is to admit she needs someone to help her.” He paused. “That said, I don’t think she would have kept something a secret if she thought she was going to be in a position to hurt someone.”

“So you don’t think she knew, or knows, she’s maybe being triggered?” Sam clarified.

“I don’t know what I think,” Coulson said. “All I know is we need to figure out what caused this so it doesn’t happen again.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Skye grumbled. She sighed. “This is when we could really use Jemma.”

Steve saw Coulson glance over at May. “Yeah,” Coulson said. “About that …”


	6. Chapter 6

**[NATASHA]**

The last thing she remembered was May’s fist hitting her in the stomach. And it was the first thing she remembered when she jolted back into awareness. Followed by the sinking realization that it had happened again.

She kept her eyes closed, her body still, as consciousness drifted over her, her mind and her other senses working to figure out a plan.

She hadn’t wanted anyone to know. Not that she didn’t trust them. She trusted Steve almost as much as she trusted Clint, and she knew if she told him, he would do anything to help her. Which right there was the problem. She knew how much effort he was expending into searching for Bucky. He shouldn’t have to stop that to help her with something that probably wasn’t even a big deal.

Besides, she had dealt with worse things on her own before, and this … this was something she wasn’t sure she was ready to let someone else help her with. Steve was going to ask her questions and would want her to talk.

She wasn’t sure she could do that. But she wasn’t sure she could stay silent anymore either.

She could feel a heavy weigh on top of her palm. A hand. A very warm hand. Rough fingers. Big. 

Steve. Steve was holding her hand. She could hear him breathing, deeper than normal. She thought maybe he was sleeping.

She was lying down on something soft. A bed. And she was covered in scratchy blankets. If she were to guess, they’d taken her to medical.

She couldn’t remember anything after May had hit her, but she guessed it wasn’t good. She’d seen the marks on Steve’s neck in the morning from when she had attacked him. And she’d woken up seven days earlier, the morning she decided she needed to find Steve, to the bedroom in the safe house looking like a warzone — with no memory of how it had gotten that way.

Very slowly, she moved the fingers of her hand that Steve wasn’t holding. Good. Everything seemed to be working properly. Her head hurt a little, and her ribs ached, but nothing seemed to be broken.

She listened carefully but she couldn’t hear anything other than Steve’s breathing. That was good. They were alone.

She opened her eyes, slowly, not moving another muscle. Steve wasn’t looking at her, but she could see creases above his eyes, a frown on his face. He was worried.

About her.

_Fuck._

Internally, she scolded herself again. She knew she should have left Sam and Steve out of it, handled it herself. She could have found Coulson on her own. She could have just asked Fury for help. But that morning when she woke up, when she realized how much time she couldn’t remember … She never should have panicked, though. _She_ didn’t panic. She had been trained not to. Except she did. And in that moment there was only one person she wanted to see. And now she was here.

And Steve ….

He was holding her hand now, he was sitting next to her. She tried not to tell herself that right there was the reason she had come to him. Instead, she took a breath, tried to shove all her emotions down. She had to figure out how to get out of this …

“Why are you here?” she said, into the silence of the room.

Steve started, jerking back to full awake. He turned to look at her. He looked a little pale. A lot tired.

He smiled at her, that beautiful warm smile he always gave her. “You’re awake.”

She steeled herself against his eyes and the way they were looking at her, like he needed to protect her. “Why are you here?”

“Because you’re here.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Steve.”

“Natasha …”

He wasn’t going to leave. She could tell. But she couldn’t let him stay. It was getting worse. If he was too close to her …

“I tried to kill you.”

“That wasn’t you.”

She almost smirked. “Then who was it? My evil twin?”

“Hey.” Steve reached out with his other hand, took her free hand in his. She tried to pull away, but he held on tighter. “We’re going to figure this out, okay?”

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. It was what she knew he was going to say, had known it was what he was going to say before she even made the decision to show up in Sam’s apartment, but there was a reason she hadn’t told him, there was a reason she needed to do this on her own, there was a reason she needed to leave as soon as she could.

Guilt spread over her. What had she done?

“Before I hurt someone else? Or worse?” She stared him right in the eyes, daring him to look away from her. He didn’t.

“Yes,” he said. And he leaned up and gave her a soft kiss. She let the corner of her upper lip curve up.

“I wish I could believe you.”

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one doing the hurting.”

“We’re going to figure this out, Nat.”

She didn’t answer. He squeezed both her hands. Finally, she turned her head away from him.

“Did I hurt May?”

It took Steve a few seconds to answer. “You tried,” he said finally. “But no. Sam pulled an icer out of thin air, and we stopped you.” A short pause. “I’m sorry. I don’t like hurting you.”

She turned back to look at him. “I don’t think I gave you much choice.”

He tilted his head to the side. He let go of one hand to reach up and brush a lock of hair off her forehead. A part of her wanted to tell him not to touch her, but another part … She hated that he made her feel safe.

She hated more that he was making her feel like she needed to be honest with him.

“There’s something wrong with me,” she whispered, “and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, and he sounded so convincing, she almost believed him. “If it’s something to figure out.”

She didn’t have time to figure out what he meant by that. His smiled faded almost instantly. “You lied to me, though.” The warmth in his voice from a few seconds ago was gone. This tone was more commanding, more captain than friend, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “You knew this was happening when you showed up to find us, but instead you lied to us about wanting to find Coulson.”

Natasha shook her head. “I didn’t lie,” she said. “I did want to find him.”

“But you purposely withheld relevant and important information.”

Her brow furrowed. She had known that part might come back to haunt her, but he had no right to make her tell him all her secrets. Or feel like she should have to. “I withhold information from everyone. It’s what I do.”

“Don’t,” he said lowly. “Don’t make excuses.” He continued. “You could have told me the truth.”

“I told you as much of the truth as I was comfortable telling you,” she said plainly.

He leveled her with a stare. “You want me to help you,” he said, “but you lie to me. You want Coulson to help you, but you lie to him. The only thing any of us have right now is trust in each other, but you lie to everyone and expect us to help you anyway, even when we can’t trust you.”

He let go of her hand, crossed his arms. Natasha blinked at him, a slight chill running through her at the loss of contact. She had a strange desire to reach for him, but instead she crossed her arms against her chest, imitating him, and tried to read through the lines of anger that were developing on his face. “You can trust me,” she said.

He cocked a brow. “Can we really? Because in the past two days, you’ve tried to kill two of us and you don’t appear to want to tell any of us why. Who are you protecting, Natasha?”

She stared at him. A few moments ago, he was telling her he wanted to help her and now he was looking at her like he thought she was a cold-blooded killer. She shook her head, trying to understand. “What?”

His eyes narrowed. “What part are you confused by?”

“I didn’t lie to hurt … I was trying …”

He cut her off. “No,” he said. “Don’t tell me you were trying to protect us. You were trying to protect _yourself_. You could have killed someone, Nat! You almost did. And you _knew_ it was a possibility and you still walked in here and didn’t say a word and pretended it was all about something else!”

“I didn’t!” she said, and suddenly, out of no where, she was leaning forward, trying to reach for him, but a sudden surge of pain from her ribs made her gasp. He stood up from where he was sitting, and turned around, as if to go.

Terror, and panic, akin to the panic she had felt the morning she’d woken up and realized that there were hours of her life she couldn’t remember, took over. She didn’t want to tell him, she didn’t want to put him — or anyone — in danger, but it was too late. She already had. She should have known that from the start. And now, now she wasn’t sure if she could do this alone.

It was getting worse. That much was clear. Three times in three days.

“Steve!” Even she could hear the desperation lining her voice, and she hated herself a little for it. This wasn’t who she was supposed to be. Not now. Not anymore. 

Steve kept walking, though, reaching out for the door.

She took a breath. Her last chance. 

“I was scared.” Her words were barely above a whisper, but they did the trick. He paused, as if debating whether he could possibly believe her or not.

Finally, he turned. She hadn’t moved. She was still sitting halfway up in bed, almost but not quite reaching for him. She tried to let the panic she felt inside show on her face.

“Of what?” he said. His voice was so quiet. “You think if you told me the truth, I wouldn’t have helped you? You think if you told Coulson the truth, he wouldn’t have helped you? That we wouldn’t have tried to figure this out?”

She shook her head. No, she wasn’t scared of that. She knew they would help her. It wasn’t them she was scared of. But she wasn’t sure how to admit that to him, so instead she just whispered, “You were trying to find Bucky …”

“Yes,” he said. “I was. I am. But we stopped to help you find Coulson because you showed up and told us he was alive and acted like a crazy person when we didn’t believe you. Why would you think if you told us the truth that we wouldn’t have helped you? You think we would just let someone hurt you and not do anything about it?”

She didn’t answer. She just stared at him. And then she bit down on her lip. She knew what he wanted her to say, what he wanted her to confess … but to say it out loud, to admit it …

She had come so far, so, so far, from that scared little girl she once was, who cried the first time they hit her and who screamed in terror when they locked her up. That little girl was weak. Natasha wasn’t weak. She could take care of herself, she could get herself out of any mess she was in. She was strong and capable and smart. She didn’t need anyone else to help her.

She didn’t need to confess her secrets or see the pity in Steve’s eyes when she told him. She didn’t need to let him in to things she didn’t want to think about, didn’t want to remember.

She could solve her own problems. She could. She didn’t have to be scared or vulnerable or dependent.

Except she had a horrible feeling she maybe couldn’t solve this on her own. But opening up, _telling_ him …

She didn’t move. She just stared at him. But maybe he saw something on her face anyway.

He let out a soft, almost sad, sigh, and his anger seemed to almost melt away. “You have to stop lying, Natasha, if you want people to trust you enough to help you.”

Her eyes didn’t waver from his. “Maybe people shouldn’t trust me.”

“Why?” he said automatically. “Because you don’t deserve it?”

This time her eyes did flicker. She looked down. “You already know I’m a liar.”

“You’re more than that, Natasha. At least you can be. You wanted a new start after what happened in D.C.? This can be your new start. But you have to stop running. And you have to be honest.”

“I don’t know that I can do that.”

“Look,” Steve said, and now his voice was a lot more gentle than it had been. “I’m not asking you to tell me every deep dark secret you have. I’m not asking you to tell me any secrets. Or anything else you don’t want to tell me. Or anyone. I’m just asking you not to lie to me. Or to Coulson. Or to anyone else here. Don’t lie and don’t manipulate. If you don’t want to answer, don’t answer, but don’t tell people what you think they want to hear.” He paused. “Can you do that at least?”

Silence hung between them. She watched him watch her. She knew this was it, her final chance. She needed to make a decision. 

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “It’s not in my nature.”

“I know.”

She frowned. He looked so sincere whereas a few minutes ago, he seemed so angry. She rubbed her forehead. The pain was getting worse, and this conversation was beginning to wear on her. “I don’t know what you want from me, Rogers.”

He smiled at that. “I want you to trust me enough to know that I want to help you no matter what horrible things you did in the past. Or might do in the future.”

“I’m not the type of person people help.” She almost laughed. “At least not without getting something in return.” 

She saw a brief flicker of something like horror cross his face, and she knew he knew what she meant. “You deserve to have people who care about you, Natasha.”

“You care about me?”

“Do you think I would be here with you, right now, if I didn’t?“

She honestly wasn’t sure. She knew he cared about her in a teammate kind of way and in the way you care about someone who went through what they went through together. But the way he said the word, the way he was looking at her … like maybe he cared about her more than just that ... 

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Maybe a little unnerved. She shook her head. “You want to find Bucky.”

“I could find Bucky anywhere.”

“But Coulson has resources …”

“I know.”

“But you wanted to stay.” She’d known he’d want to stay a few days. She’d thought that would give her enough time to get what she had come to get. She had counted on him caring about his search more than he cared about what she was doing. “I thought …” She trailed off, not sure what she was even trying to say.

He smiled at her again, that same warm smile from before. It was back. “Because I know you,” he said. “I know you think no one knows you, but you would be wrong. And I knew you wanted to stay — of course, I apparently didn’t know _why_ you wanted to stay — but I knew that you did and I knew you were too stubborn to admit it, so we gave you an out.” He shrugged.

She blinked. “You did?”

“Yes,” he said.

“And then I almost killed everyone.” She turned her head to the side, just for a brief moment, before meeting his eyes once again. She should have known this was going to happen. She should have been more careful. “Do you think Coulson’s going to make me leave?”

He raised a brow at her. “Because you tried to kill May?”

She nodded.

“The truth?”

She nodded again.

“I think he’s going to be upset at you. I think everyone is. You have to stop lying, Natasha. What you did put everyone in danger.”

“I know.”

“But I think he cares about you more than he’s going to be angry with you. And I think he wants to help you. I think they all do.” 

“How do you know that?”

“Because it’s how I feel.”

She studied him for a second, and then a faint smile crossed her lips. “I don’t deserve any of you.”

“Yes, you do,” Steve said. “Maybe not today, but you have to stop thinking you’re not worth anything.”

“That’s easier said than done, Rogers.”

“I know.” He reached out a hand to her. She looked down at it but didn’t move. “We need to go talk to Coulson. Are you okay to walk?” He touched her gently on the arm with his other hand, like by touching her, he could feel if she was up to this. “You have some apologizing to do.”

“You’re going with me?”

He shrugged. “Everyone needs back up.”

She let the faint smile on her face turn into a real one, and tried to let the edges of panic she could still feel creeping in dissipate.

She took his offered hand. He squeezed her fingers. She slid out of bed, a little unsteady, but she could move. 

She had a lot of explaining to do, and she was nowhere close to sure she was ready — nowhere close to being ready to let people in, to her life now and into her past — but there was no turning back.

Steve let go of her hand and slipped his arm around her waist. He was strong and safe. If there was only one thing she was sure of, and it felt a little like there was, it was that he wouldn’t let her fall.

“Ready?” he asked softly.

“No,” she said honestly, but she started to walk, letting him lead her out of the medical ward and down the hall to Coulson’s office.

It was time to tell the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I promise there is a lot more explanation — and a lot more plot — coming in Part 2! Stay tuned!


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